Victim of Circumstance
by Amarantus
Summary: Morbid curiosity be damned, he should have left when he still had the chance and was still blissfully ignorant. Scintillating greed and glorious ambition often have a secret agenda. What sort of a simpleton would willingly poison himself with the presence of chaotic children?
1. Decadence

_**Dedications:**_

_**For the tender omnipresent shadow and adored friend, Umbra viridis –tco, may this story evoke the scent of Autumn air and scatter rose petals on your path as you enter this princedom, heed the loving murmurs of the vermillion leaves, and, there in the grove, a Fae rests, waiting for you, eager to enchant you with stories and ballads, perpetually chanting, of good, of evil, of life, singing in the night until you close your lids and continue dreaming; in the dream, you enter a dimly lit corridor, webs undulate in the breeze and the scent of old parchment mesmerizes you, a **__**will-o'-the-wisp guides you through the chambers, each of them containing a hidden prize; a signed book about a young sovereign and his beloved flower, a golden orb, an old monocle, exquisite tea leaves, the secret diary of a certain hunter, a feather of an angel…you hear laughter from the other rooms and you know you're safe. On a nearby desk, you discover a note. It reads: sacred arias rise again, in lofty opalescent vaults echoing, yearning, of universal meanings yelling, foretelling, reciting, in eternity never disappearing.**_

_**And**_

_**For Zanteh, the wise and magnificent being, weaver of phantasmagorical and excruciating tales, my muse and source of courage, neverending determination and strength, a flaming phoenix rising from the ashes in all its regal colours. Catharsis floods my heart when I read your words, purging it and enriching it, revealing new dimensions. Because of you, I have managed to conquer my fear of writing and publishing, and for that I am forever grateful, and forever your humble servant. May the celestial powers watch over you and grant all of your wishes, may your precious mind continue to grace this world and produce new wonders.**_

* * *

><p>It was certainly not the type of situation he was used to dealing with. A strange combination of completely unfamiliar sentiments came over him as he stared at his reflection in his sublime Baroque mirror, whose framework was adorned with golden vines and small amethyst grapes. He tapped one absentmindedly with his index finger as he tried to decipher the mechanism behind the insane proposition of a certain brawny buffoon. It was quite amusing in the beginning, when the first letter had arrived via the usual diplomatic formalities between Fairy and Anti-Fairy World, but things did escalate to a very interesting degree when he kept on refusing to schedule a meeting. Anti-Cosmo was displeased to find that annoying messages were worming their merry way into every imaginable aspect of his life, and the sole reason for his current dilemma was the fact that his own tea cups had turned against him and screamed in Jorgenʼs booming voice. Oh, or maybe it was the exploding water closet. No, it must have been the killer crumpets and flesh-eating scones. <em>For evil<em>_ʼ__s sake, how embarassing._ It did not do him well. Vulnerability had a horrible effect on his psyche. Truth be told, he could have sworn that the pair of emeralds that was staring back at him were not his own eyes. No. _Definitely not. Those eyes are dripping with fear and panic. They disgust me. That is not me. Not even my moronic counterpart would have the nerve to appear in public with that terror-stricken expression on his face._

Of course, there was no room available for such ridiculous and useless things in his profession. Fear?! It was nigh impossible for a person in position of power and in possession of great responsibility to survive such a mistake. He could not afford any sort of weakness; his enemies would eat him alive. Moreover, his own son would stab him both in the back and in the front repeatedly if he were to falter and stop emanating his usual aura of superiority and charisma. Maybe he just lacked patience. That was the trait he admired his mother for: the ability to keep a cool mind and a steady, resilient heart. Mama Anti-Cosma was truly the embodiment of poise and reason. Discretion had always been of utter importance to her, a calm woman capable of solving a crisis by pouring cold water over it and slapping it into equilibrium. Schemes represented the weapon and tool of unimaginative cowards in her opinion; unfortunately, she had been incapable of passing on her _credo_ to her son. His paranoia and tendency to find refuge in clandestine activities were the primary characteristic of his fatherʼs personality. Papa Anti-Cosma was indeed a refined galant, a true gentleman and a cultivated genius, but far too severe and greedy for his own good. Things had gone to the deuce the moment Anti-Cosmo made the idiotic blunder of turning his father into a fly when he received his wand. His mother was forced to act as Regent and organise a search party for her missing husband. Eventually they did find him and turned him back to normal, but his nerves had already gone down the drain.

He still remembered the fury he had felt when he was dragged from the freedom of his youth and had to assume the duties of the Heir Apparent. It would be a lie to say that he hadnʼt been interested, but not under those circumstances. He stood there, wearing his shirt and waistcoat, his overcoat hanging from the edge of the couch. His hair was presentable, but he was having problems with his scarf. He tied it and untied it with his nervous and cold fingers, his irritation level growing every second; oh, why was it so difficult to tie the bloody thing? He sighed and took out a piece of cloth to polish his monocle. As he busied himself with this activity, he failed to register the presence of another being that had entered his study. He only realised this when he felt a pair of arms snake around his waist and pull him closer to the warm feminine figure behind him; when did Anti-Wanda become so sneaky?

ʺWhy arenʼt ya cominʼ ta bed?ʺ

ʺBecause Jorgen has taken leave of his senses.ʺ

He leaned his head back on her shoulder and enjoyed the fragrance of her wonderfully fluffy hair. Honey and sunshine. What an odd combination for a creature that represented the darker side of reality. He traced her cheek with his fingers and focused his efforts on leaving small kisses on her neck. Her reaction to his fangs tickling the surface of her skin was priceless. It wouldnʼt be a surprise to him if he started purring like a very satisfied black cat. Warmth...she had always been so welcoming. Suddenly, he felt her grip tighten and he could not help but gasp.

ʺOuch! What is it, woman?!ʺ

ʺThem poor lilʼ senses! He left them all alone in the cold? Are ya gonna go save them? Er...what do they look like anyway? Oh, lemme guess; kittens! Lilʼ darlinʼ kittens!ʺ

ʺOh, for evilʼs sake, there is only so much one person can take at a time. Yes, my dear, kittens. Little kittens that live in your head and give sage advice and useful instructions; the only problem is that most idiots ignore them.ʺ

As he spoke, he tried his best to release himself before her hold on his midriff got even tighter. It was a very interesting scene to behold, and even more so if we calculate in the fact that Anti-Wanda giggled hysterically when she saw the reflection of Anti-Cozzie in the mirror in front of them. He was struggling for some reason unknown to her, but she did put the pieces of the puzzle together when he started coughing.

ʺOh, I get it! Iʼm chokinʼ ya! Why didnʼt ya say somethinʼ?ʺ

ʺYou...may... want...to call the ambulance...ʺ

ʺAh, ya big baby.ʺ

She made a snort and placed her hands on her hips. Meanwhile, a very grateful Anti-Cosmo was desperately trying to inhale as much as his lungs would physically allow and flailed his arms about with unnecesary pathos.

ʺWhy do the Fates detest my existence?! Why do they always have to toy with my life?ʺ

ʺHuh?ʺ

ʺLook at this.ʺ

He conjured the letter he had received several weeks prior and tossed it in his wifeʼs hands. The small green envelope had been sealed with wax and bore the star emblem of the Fairies. There wasnʼt much of the seal left on it now when it was already broken, but the upper part of the golden star was discernable. The letter within was uncharacteristically long, handwritten(courtesy of Binky, one could suppose), formal to the point that even made Anti-Cosmo wince and the language was quite archaic. Not normal. Not even the usual mature style used in official correspondence, but the type that had once served only in the most drastic and desperate situations. Wars were declared in such a language, alliances were forged, complex situations resolved. In short, something that had not been used in centuries. Not even when they had been condemned to eternal imprisonment. But that was done through a perfidious act, so no official document had ever been issued or delivered.

She held it in her hands and tried to make some sense of it.

ʺI canʼt even read this darn thing. What sorta language is it?ʺ

ʺThat style is a clear indicator that we are either in great peril...or that Jorgen is under the false impression that every day is the first day of April. Whatever it may be of those two options, I am definitely not going to assist in my own murder by going and granting him an audience! Who does that boob think he is?! I bet not even their bloody Council is familiar with this. They would never allow this sort of nonsense!ʺ

ʺWhat in tarnation are ya talkinʼ of? I thought ya were going to save them senses.ʺ

ʺAh, if only I had your head for a day. That would be a true vacation.ʺ

ʺEr...ʺ

ʺJust a figure of speech, beloved.ʺ

He averted his gaze back to the mirror and continued his mission of tying the scarf properly; it was quite hard to achieve its usual puffy effect. His fingers were icy and sweaty, which did nothing to simplify his not-as-easy-as-it-looks work. Eventually, he sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Ah, scarves could be so evil and vicious. But the vision of dismembering von Strangle did make him feel a bit better about life.

ʺLemme get that for ya, honey.ʺ

One would percieve it as a true miracle that she was capable of some very prodigious acts at the most ridiculous moment. There was this awkward time when Foop and he had been staring at the chessboard for hours, sweating and experiencing tremors over every single move. Insane emeralds of his eyes trying to defeat and triumph over sociopathic amethysts of Foop. A pair of curious pink diamonds had come along and wanted to join in the little game with horsies and queens. She had picked up a piece, much to her sonʼs and husbandʼs chagrin, and moved it diagonally. Satisfied, she had also decided to move the horsie from the opposite side to keep the first little lonely darlinʼ soldier company. ( _They are called Knights and Bishops! Mother, what are you doing?)_. A few moves later, she had created the ideal playdate: she combined those who behaved and got rid of trouble makers. She had given her son a quick peck on the cheek and she floated away to an unknown direction. Anti-Cosmoʼs jaw had dropped and Foop was probably having some difficulty with blinking. ( _Oh, my...I...think I should go and lie down. Yes.)_

She untied the messy knot he had made and began to show her skill; he refused to dress himself by using magic. After a few adjustments with her deft fingers, she summoned his sapphire broach and pinned it on. It was adorable when she was the one in charge of affairs. She would make a goofy grin and bounce with joy.

ʺThere! All fancy and cute!ʺ

ʺCome here, my evil temptress.ʺ

ʺHey! Yer squishinʼ me!ʺ

ʺNo, Iʼm not. I am merely acting like the lovestruck fool that I am. And I am getting even with you for trying to take my breath away ‒ literally.ʺ

ʺHmph, ya great big British wacko.ʺ

With arms locked around her middle, he nuzzled her neck and whispered gentle words to soothe and placate her false anger. Verses of the most treasured and revered poems were being recited and partially sung when he arrived at the older Greek ones. Maybe he should conjure a lyre and do it the old way. Or maybe hire a satyr to play it for him in the background.

ʺAnti-Cosmo?ʺ

ʺYes?ʺ

ʺWhat about that no good letter?ʺ

ʺI am trying to woo you. Do not spoil my attempts.ʺ

ʺBut ya were so upset! Itʼs gonna keep eatinʼ ya and yer gonna be mean to me when ya get angry!ʺ

ʺOh, enough. I never mean it, you ninny! Has it not dawned on you that you are the only person keeping me from going berserk and blowing the universe to bits? That you are the sole reason why I get out of bed every day and face this travesty of a life?!ʺ

ʺAh, shucks, how sweet of ya. But ya have to do what ya must. I hate to see ya so grumpy. Ya get that funny lilʼ look in yer eyes when yer nervous. Like a possum that sleeps right-side up!ʺ

Preposterous. _Possum? I am not a possum in any manner whatsoever!_ Still, the logic of her argument was conspiring against him; quite an amazing feat, considering the fact that Anti-Wanda was the author. Morbid curiosity be damned to a thousand torments, he was preparing to give in and indulge von Strangle in his request. It was more than obvious that he would continue to persist and annoy the Anti-Fairy to no end. A trap? Well, what sort of an idiot would announce his intentions several weeks in advance and repeat them a_d nauseam_ to a very irritated potential victim of his schemes? Hmmm, letʼs leave that question unanswered.

Magic. Anti-Cosmo was a renowned expert at all branches of the magical craft, a gifted conjurer and sorcerer par excellence. Necessary precaution would be taken, several well cast defensive spells and a masterfully conducted teleportation. Yes. That would get him out of Jorgenʼs impromptu trap. He left his wifeʼs side and approached the arched window of his private study; the Gothic ornements were quite soothing and meditative, and the glass itself had been painted with the Chartres blue colour. Yes, it was horribly difficult to reconstruct the formula that had been lost in the first half of the second millenium, but he was persistent. It had been a shame that he wasnʼt present at the construction of the Chartres cathedral itself, as it would have been easier to bribe the masons and the artisans into sharing their secret. He contemplated the figures on the vitrail.

ʺI am approaching the scaffold like a brainless dolt.ʺ

ʺNo, yer not. Yer just standinʼ in place.ʺ

ʺI am going to meet him.ʺ

ʺOh! Ya go anʼ give him a good whoopinʼ for leavinʼ those senses!ʺ

ʺHe is going to get a hard kick in the behind if this isnʼt a matter worth discussing. I will bring his heart in a jar and place it in the treasury.ʺ

ʺServes him right!ʺ

He grabbed his overcoat and buttoned it up. Casting one last glance at the room, he took Anti-Wandaʼs hand and pressed his lips on it. Her giggles reverberated around the study and she pulled him in for a tight hug. Not too tight, for fear that she would start crushing his thorax once more. He made a grin and allowed himself the liberty of giving her a playful pinch on the thigh.

ʺYa pervert!ʺ

ʺCouldnʼt resist.ʺ

As he floated down the vast corridors of his castle, he indulged himself in marvelling the beauty he had created through his own designs. The current version of the castle had been finished in the sixteenth century, when Anti-Cosmo decided to add the combined elements of both Gothic and Rennaissance architecture, which he had found so appealing in the Chambord castle, as a replacement of the initial donjon version that served for defense against sieges. However, he was forced to leave the outer walls that concealed most of the castle from public view. Corinthian columns and rib-caged vaults were quintessential to the inner design, along with carvings at the top of the typical thin Gothic pillars that formed intricate lace patterns. Statues of Greek deities and Roman equivalents were placed in most rooms, Rococo furniture, crystal chandeliers and the art of the Baroque, Classic and Romantic period.

He snapped out of his fantasies when he noticed a pair of glowing amethysts in the semi-darkness of the corridor. Frowning, he was forced to come to an abrupt stop. His son emerged from the shadows and made a mocking bow to the ruler of the realm.

ʺFather.ʺ

ʺUngrateful whelp. Shouldnʼt you be in bed?ʺ

ʺShouldnʼt you be rotting in an unmarked grave?ʺ

ʺFor your motherʼs sake, I will let that one pass. I would hate to mutilate her Foopy.ʺ

ʺOh, what a merciful gesture. Going soft with age.ʺ

ʺOur wonderful father-son relations aside, I need you to do something for me.ʺ

ʺI have better things to do than run errands for you like a common servant. You have no jurisdiction over me, you old codger.ʺ

ʺOh, I beg to differ, you rotten fruit of my loins.ʺ

Before the small cube could react, his father had shot a powerful blast of indigo energy from the onyx star of his wand in his direction. The impact of the blast had thrown him straight at the stone wall and he groaned in anguish and unbearable pain.

ʺNow, my son, let us try again. You were about to say that you would be thrilled to respect my wishes. And in a respectful and subservient tone typical for a common servant.ʺ

ʺWhat have you done to me? I canʼt move! LET ME GO!ʺ

ʺParalysis Spell. You too would know how to cast and counter it if you were not such a stubborn dunce. Now, let me reword this in the only language you undestand. I, the Leader of this world, am asking you, my worthless son, to keep your mother, my Consort, safe, while I am on a short business excursion. Is that too difficult for you?ʺ

ʺBusiness excursion?! At half an hour till midnight? Oh, you may have been able to sell that story to my idiotic mother, but I know that you are probably using it as an excuse to sneak out and participate in lecherous activities with random women of dubious behaviour.ʺ

Foop had to bite his tongue at the last word. He was merely trying to anger his father, but his last remark had gone too far. Anti-Cosmoʼs love and loyalty to Anti-Wanda was beyond discussion, and he knew that he would pay dearly for his insolence. He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the blow; none came. How he loathed this body of an infant, the very one that would always tremble with fear and react to pain.

ʺYour grandfather would have slaughtered me for that sass.ʺ

ʺYes, well, you _are_ the main reason why Grandpa always gets a tad bit agitated everytime he hears buzzing sounds. That is even worse than my way of conduct.ʺ

ʺHear me well: there is potential danger in our proximity, and I need you to keep things under control should anything happen to me. Our archives will automatically relocate themselves and a barrier shall be lifted to protect our dimension. Your mother is incapable of acting as a temporary ruler and you are going to have to take care of the Anti-Fairies. Anti-Studwell and Anti-Cupid will be your advisors. We canʼt rely on Anti-Binky, he is far too chaotic.ʺ

ʺI beg your pardon? You are surely toying with my mind, because I could have sworn that you just offered me your post.ʺ

ʺOut of pure necessity. If I get captured or injured, I need to know that I can rely on you. Now, I am not asking you as a father, but as your ruler. And you are my heir, so I expect you to act the role.ʺ

ʺI knew I shouldnʼt have eaten that quiche that Mother had made.ʺ

ʺThis is serious! Jorgen has presented himself as a potential threat to the somewhat stable relationship between Fairy and Anti-Fairy World, which can only find its result in conflict. I have been given a temporary _salvus conductus_ to their world so I could participate in a ridiculous meeting. The outcome can only be speculated about and I need someone here to react if something undesirable happens. Are you aware of the seriousness of our situation?!ʺ

ʺI...suppose.ʺ

ʺWonderful.ʺ

* * *

><p>The streets and alleys of the domain of Fairies were plagued by an omnipresent blue fog. It wound itself through every available surface, engulfing the buildings, streetlamps and other random objects; the night air was pleasant and the stars were enjoying themselves by sparkling and showing off their indifference. No Fairy would deign to show its face at such a godless time of the night. As the fog approached the entrance of a particularly large building that served as headquarters of the Fairy World administration, it grew darker and denser. Meanwhile, the rest of it had dissipated and the remaining smoke started to shape itself into a solid figure. Elegant black bat wings emerged and flapped, followed by a torso and a pair of arms. When the fog disappeared entirely, the head and the rest of his physical self took shape. He grabbed the handle of his wand and pressed it against the gates. A dark blue light manifested itself and disappeared. He crossed his arms and waited.<p>

The turning of the lock made him twitch and his heart had decided to beat like a hammer drill. He was relieved to see the eyes of a very nervous Binky.

ʺUh, sir, um, Jorgen is waiting for you in his office. Oh, yeah, and do come in.ʺ

ʺRelax, I am not here to murder the entire town. Yet.ʺ

He made a diabolical grin and showed his canines in their full glory. Binky let out a little yelp and moved aside so the dark visitor could enter the hallway. White marble had lost its glowing splendour in the absence of light, and the golden ornements were reduced to black shapes. The silence was deafening. It almost reminded him of a mausoleum. Binky made a motion with his hand and led the way to the upper storey that contained von Strangleʼs official rooms. They ended up in a dark corridor illuminated by a shy ray of light that escaped from beneath the grand door that belonged to the brawny idiotʼs office. Binky knocked three times and paused. Then he used the tips of his fingers and tapped the door. Only then did the man give his permission for them to open it and enter.

ʺYouʼre on your own, sir.ʺ

ʺWhat the hell is wrong with all of you? What is all this nonsense and why are you being so mopey?!ʺ

ʺNot my place.ʺ

Irritated, Anti-Cosmo grabbed the handle and made a rough entrance, all decorum forgotten and left for dead. He was about to blast Jorgenʼs brains out, but then he paused and his mouth opened of its own will. The figure sitting at the desk was a pale shadow of what must have been Jorgen von Strangle. The fireplace was the sole provider of light and it cast a macabre combination of shadows on his face. He was...so thin. The veins on his ams protruding and giving off an unhealthy air. His tan skin reduced to a ghostly pallor.

ʺFor the love of..._Jorgen?__ʺ_

ʺPuny Anti-Fairy! Stop staring at me with pity and sit down!ʺ

ʺJorgen, indeed it is you.ʺ

A feral growl escaped the Anti-Fairyʼs throat, for he was not used to such disrespectful treatment. Foop was an exception to the general rule, but still. He floated to the chair on the other side of the desk and banged his fist against the mahogany wood.

ʺYou have three seconds to tell me what you want. I ought to rip you to ribbons and decorate the room with your body parts!ʺ

ʺThat is just gross, AC. The janitor is going to kill you.ʺ

The familiar monotone drawl came from Anti-Cosmoʼs left. His eyes widened and he cast a glance at the barely illuminated corner of the office. HP was lounging in a leather armchair, sipping from his crystal glass and watching him with all the wisdom of a cynic. So grey, yet so colourful when it came to insults. Collaboration with him had always been a delight, but their visions of dominating the world were in perfect opposition. Order could not reconcile with chaos.

ʺWhat the bloody hell are you here for?ʺ

ʺBen Stein was too busy. Donʼt worry about time, by the way. I am charging Jorgen by the hour, so you can go on and prolong this as much as it pleases you. Youʼll get your revenge by forcing him to bankrupt.ʺ

ʺCharging him? For what?ʺ

ʺActing as the Devilʼs attorney and keeping my mouth shut. Cognac? Brought it just for this occasion. Although, I think that there is no amount of alcohol that could help Jorgen now.ʺ

ʺNo, thank you. I donʼt need that poison in my organism.ʺ

ʺGive it a minute or two. Sanderson is waiting in the car and blasting Eminem. Thank goodness I made the limousine sound-proof.ʺ

Meanwhile, a very up-beat Sanderson was uploading his newest break-dance achievement on TooYube. Just to make it appear that he was being constructive and diligent in sorting HPʼs affairs, he amused himself with the drafting of a document that would ensure that those cunning buggers would stop abusing loopholes in tax legislation. It annoyed him to no end that the final accounts were not in accordance with the planned income; may they all be plagued by inflation and a negative GDP!

Chasing the unsettling image of a Pixie listening to rap from his mind, Anti-Cosmo fixed his attention on the overgrown Fairy. Von Strangleʼs eyes were bloodshot and wild, the former dark green reduced to a glazy haze. His bottom lip trembling.

ʺVon Strangle, what is this rubbish?ʺ

ʺWinston. I think I condemned him to death.ʺ

ʺWinston?! Your godchild?ʺ

ʺYes. They will come for him...oh, what have I done?! It was all an accident, the magical interdiction had lifted somehow from my core and...and...I didnʼt even notice.ʺ

He let his face fall on the surface of the mahogany desk and made inarticulate sounds that sounded like faint cries. Anti-Cosmo was sorely tempted to leave while he still had the chance and was still blissfully ignorant, but curiosity was a nasty little thing. HP was more than happy to put salt on an open wound.

ʺIt sort of reminds me of the cyclic problems the modern economy has to deal with. Interventionism. Liberalism. Interventionism. Liberalism. And it goes on in a vicious circle.ʺ

ʺTranslation?ʺ

ʺJorgen has a knack for repeating catastrophic mistakes. Only this time it was not intentional. Do you want me to demonstrate it with plush toys?ʺ

Blink. Thoughts racing around and arriving at the forbidden zone. Sudden stop. Instant panic and realisation. Anti-Cosmoʼs eye twitched and he raised his wand in Jorgenʼs direction; he made no sign of resistance. Anti-Cosmo took deep breaths and let his fury pour in waves over him. Blinded by anger, he shot a blast that barely missed Jorgen and bounced off the mirror behind him. It found its way to the hearth and eradicated the fire, turning it into blue smoke and pouring darkness over the room. HP rolled his eyes and used his smartphone to shed some light on the crazy puerile duo he had the displeasure of dealing with.

ʺHP?ʺ

ʺYep?ʺ

ʺGive me the cognac and donʼt bother with a glass.ʺ

ʺWe got a live one here. Maybe we should organise a rave.ʺ

A crystal bottle appeared with a _ping_on the desk and Anti-Cosmo grabbed it without a second thought, removed the cork and swallowed a mouthful, his eyes never leaving Jorgen. His monocle fell off in the process, but he payed it no heed. Deciding that he needed something more to calm him down, he conjured a pipe and tobacco. He took out an onyx lighter from his coat and did his best to light the pipe properly without collapsing. His right eye began to hurt.

ʺNow what? How long is it going to take your merciful and just Council to rip the boy apart and throw his remains in a ditch? Erase his existence from the memories of those who knew him? Who else knows about this?ʺ

ʺNobody.ʺ

ʺNot for long. If this gets out, you will cause a riot among Fairies. Has it not been enough that you have destroyed their fertility potential and ability to procreate? And, by doing that, ours too? This subject is tabboo, Jorgen. Need I remind you of the real reason why you no longer have wings? You are a murderer, Jorgen. Miss Powers blasted them off for a very good reason. And they will never grow back.ʺ

ʺStop it, damn you. Who was supposed to think that the damn kid had such emotional issues? The bonding process has already been placed in motion. He can shoot sparks and move objects. I had to bring him here ʺ

ʺOh, am I hurting you? Mission successful. I am not participating in this.ʺ

ʺOh, you are going to. Nana Boom Boom would be happy to blow you to pieces if you try to get out of this room. ʺ

ʺHow smashing. It must be eating you. Oh, guilt is such a successful parasite. Universal and never fails. Remember when Miss Powers was a little human Saxon girl? A refugee from a town desecrated by the Frankish armies, injured and horrified. Her tooth fell out when she lodged herself in an empty tree trunk in the forest, alone and trembling. The Tooth Fairy came to collect it. You had come along because you were bored. Oh, her screams echoed throughout the entire land. Your rough appearance made her think that the soldiers were back to slaughter her. Your wife had to seize her and calm her down. Nothing helped. A certain trait caught her attention though; your wings. It confused her and she came to an abrupt stop with her sobs. A sparkle of childish curiosity in her eyes and a weak smile. I believe that moment was quintessential for her future, the moment when she began to trust you. The Tooth Fairy had always wanted a daughter. You took her to Fairy World.ʺ

ʺIt was my first and only witch. Everybody was doing it. Damn Cosmo was the reason why we could no longer have children and we were forced to seek replacements. The problem is that they would undergo a transformation. Her eyes became violet, she grew a pair of wings, assumed the colours of the Tooth Fairy. Our joy and pride were indescribable.ʺ

ʺHow long does it take to become a familiar? A bond had to be created, because godchildren were officially assigned, not taken. The entire human culture is familiar with the notion of Faes and similar elvish creatures that steal children from the cradle, lure them into forests and raise them. So, whenever a Fairy was not qualified to get a godchild, they would snatch a baby and become a familiar. When the bond was created through love and other emotions, the magic was already lodged in the child. So the authorities had to grant it a status.ʺ

ʺSeveral years. It takes at least five years for them to adjust to the magic.ʺ

ʺOf course. Because a bond between a familiar and a witch is stronger than that of blood. But a ban was placed on the practice in the 17th century. For the Fairies at least; it was not in accordance with the _quid pro quo_policy of the Council, the one that requires the faith of humans to power the Big Wand. Fairy Witches were gaining power from their Fairies, but their own faith could give none, for they were no longer human. Not affordable, donʼt you agree? But, there is a catch: the existing godchildren would form a bond, too, for their godparents were reluctant to lose them. So, the same curse that stops them from reproduction is currently stopping them from creating new witches and warlocks. You are handling godchildren like vermin, now! Ripping them away from their godparents and taking away their loving memories of the only parents they ever really had. Disgusting. I may be evil, but I despise all hypocrisy.ʺ

Anti-Cosmo leaned back in his chair and puffed a few smokes. The tobbacco was fresh and of excellent quality, which only made him angrier about the fact that he couldnʼt enjoy it the way he wanted to. How was it possible that Jorgen could make such a mistake? The old wounds had still not healed and many ghosts from the past were still waiting to get revenge. It was no joke, unfortunately. He would have preferred an attempt on his life, even. But to be faced with this...

ʺWe feed on the misery of human beings, Jorgen. Fairies give false hope and feed their power off the happiness it produces, Pixies fuel their world with ambition and Anti-Fairies have a limitless source of fear and superstition. You took the positive, we were left with the negative. But it takes effort to create a positive emotion. The negative is always present, no matter what. That is why we are never in danger of losing our power. You, on the other hand, have to create an image and keep it. Fairies are the ones that lead, and their humans follow. The Fairy Witch always follows the Fairy. Arthur was taken to Avalon. Oberon took the boy from his wife. Fairies taking orphans for themselves. The Anti-Fairies follow the human. We too were affected by your fertility bans and we have been forced to seek replacements as well. But we did not have godchildren. You were forced to create Fairy Witches when you could not receive a godchild, we had to create ours because we had nothing else. Invisible to humans and roaming the world, we were waiting for them to call us. We would come. Be it a boy that was battered by his parents or a lonely girl, we would plan revenge on their tormentors. Brought bad luck to them. Floating around the object of our obsession and affection, we would whisper to them, amuse them. Became their guardian spirits. Eventually, when our magic would find its way in their veins, they would start seeing us. They earned their power to see us. After a few years, they became full Anti-Fairy witches and warlocks. They would stay in their own world, and we would become the spirit that belongs to their descendants as well.

Often we had to disguise ourselves as a black cat, or an owl, or a toad, spiders and bats, black hounds, general domestic animals that helped their witch. The modern notion of their kind was created through our version of them. Your own were mistaken as Fairies and good spirits. In truth, they both liked each other and had taken similar roles in society. Doctors, astronomers, scholars, midwives...the only difference was the source of their power. And the fact that our witches were vengeful. We destroyed crops, brought hailstorms, ruined financial transactions and similar things. Humans were always afraid of magic, but they could not kill a real witch. They shared our immortality. But a witchling, a child of a witch that had not yet bonded with a familiar, was gifted with power, but a mortal nonetheless. They were vulnerable, and they could be killed. This is were you enter. What happened in the 17th century? Hmmm?

Those who had familiars, but had not yet achieved the level of a real witch, were mortal too. As the Fairies grew angry with the decision of the Council, you took matters in your own overgrown hands. Fairies and Fairy Witches were taking all the remaining witchlings and bringing them to Fairy World, for fear that they would be killed. Nobody could harm them there and they would reach maturity under protection. Their parents had to help them adapt and they did this by giving them wings. Several decades later, you turned your focus on Anti-Fairy Witches that were living on Earth. As the secrecy policy became more strict than ever, you had to get rid of our witchlings. It was the equivalent to genocide. But, you had to ensure that there would be no escape; so you had to seal Anti-Fairy World and stop the Anti-Fairies. How much magic did it take to imprison us? It must have taken you years to recover.

Every single one. Behind a magic barrier. For three and a half centuries. Tell me, Jorgen, what went through your mind? You have inspired the minds of madmen to hunt down and murder witchlings! Their parents could not grant them immortality, not without their familiar. They were running and living like refugees, dreading the cities and inhabited places. Treaties were written on how to torture them, horrible crimes were commited against their person. Imagine the insanity of full witches. Of the pain of losing their Anti-Fairy. They went mad. And when their own children were slaughtered, they turned on the children of humans and did not refrain from murdering them as a punishment. Amazing that that would be the century when the Hansel and Gretel story was brought to its finishing touches. The Anti-Fairies did all they could to escape. They could work magic from within the barrier, though. Conjuring mirrors to see their witches and witchlings, they were bearing witness to the carnage only a sick mind would create. Do you remember how we pleaded? For every witchling dead, one mirror broken. Again and again. We are the only ones allowed to break mirrors. Bad luck befalls those who dare take that prerogative from us. Broken mirrors represent the souls of our late offspring.

Oh, she knew it. She knew that you were behind it all. And so, Miss Powers came to you, cursed you for destroying her own kin and used the very magic that was given to her through your love to destroy your wings. The symbol of the trust she had once given to you.ʺ

ʺYou have no idea what it was like then. I had to, there was no other way. You were becoming chaotic, the entire system was on the verge of collapsing!ʺ

ʺMy sister-in-lawʼs warlock was of Dutch descent, and he was forced to flee for the American continent. He came to what is now Dimmsdale. Quite remarkable, considering the fact that the Californian peninsula was not even a colony then. But he moved several people in need of habitation there and created a small town. They loved him. He was charismatic and tried all he could to appear as a perfect member of human society. But his sanity was declining, for he was incapable of living without his companion. Did you know that our witches lose the ability to fly when depressed? That is why they use broomsticks as a replacement. In order to keep stability, he had to throw accusations at undesirable foreigners, making them appear as witches. I believe you know him. Alden Bitteroot. Imagine my surprise when I took a peek at Anti-Blondaʼs mirror: a buck-toothed boy in pink that arrived from the future with the counterparts of both Anti-Wanda and me! That was the first time I ever saw Timothy, irony be damned. Naturally, Alden felt the need to get rid of the suspicious boy. But, luck was not on his side. His ability to fly lost and his magic diminished, he ended up at the bottom of a very interesting well. Planted by you, if I am correct. It was sucking his life energy, so he could not teleport. He climbed, breaking his nails on the sharp stone and leaving his blood as the only trace of his existence, choking on the carbon monoxide. Grieving, nervous and desperate. For he had a fifteen year old son hidden in the vast basement of his cottage. The son that had waited for days before he realised that his father was not coming back from outside. A great amount of courage must have taken him to get out and continue his life without him. Three centuries later, Alden finally climbed up. Again, he fell down. We canʼt even reach him because the curses you have placed are far too potent.

Alden was not a bad person. I had personally tutored the boy when Anti-Blonda introduced him to our world. A small child with thick black hair, black eyes and spectacles. Sarcastic, studious and obsessive. Anti-Blonda could not bear it. Her mind undone. Do you know where my wifeʼs sister is today? In a sanitarium, burning the roots of plants and dreading the holes in the ground.

The house is still inhabited by a descendant. He had found the underground hiding place and turned it into his private laboratory. Spitting image of Alden. Diluted, but still present magic of Anti-Fairies manifesting itself in him. Born on the thirteenth day of the fifth month, genius, knows how to figure out a situation and provide stunninng details just by guessing them. And possesses an incredible ability to attach to magical creatures. Now, what sort of a sacrilege is it that Cosmo and Wanda ended up as godparents to the descendant of an Anti-Fairy Warlock?! And that they would then be given to another person that was responsible for Aldenʼs demise? Amazing coincidence. Common denominator-Timothy Turner. His current student.

Does your conscience burn you? Are you not ashamed of the fact that you are leeching off Denzel Crocker to power Fairy World? ʺ

ʺEnough of this pillaging through the buried past. I have summoned you to propose an offer that I know that you would not dream of refusing; HP?ʺ

ʺOh, finally. I was already on the verge of puking from all the melodrama.ʺ

He used his magic smartphone to summon a black leather briefcase. There were multiple locks and combination mechanisms that he had imbued with magic for additional security. Any normal person would have already given up after decoding the first twenty locks, but a workaholic Pixie would enjoy every single bit of time spent on solving problems and living up to the challenge. He hummed to himself as he toyed with numbers and letters, secretly relishing the fact that he was boring the hell out of the Fairy and the Anti-Fairy in the room. A small snort escaped him when he saw that Anti-Cosmo was forcing himself to stiffle his yawns. Several clicks later, he was able to lift the lid and extract the precious material from within.

ʺI have outdone myself with this one, I have to say. This adorable little bundle of several hundred pages is the official contract which can only be entered into if the parties possess the capacity to represent a magical world. Two is the minimum number, and each of us has to provide our seal that stands for our respective races. The original shall be kept in my personal archives, since I represent the neutral world, while you two are the primary beneficiaries of this contract. You shall both receive a copy and store it where nobody can find it. Now, Jorgen, I have also brought you the false contract you will be showing to the Council when we are done. The effects will take place the very moment you place your signature. I suggest you give it a thorough read and inspection, and I shall then show you the fine print.ʺ

Anti-Cosmoʼs reaction was quite droll; he choked on his pipe and got cinders all over the floor. HP was relieved that he did not sully the contracts that he had been writing for weeks. The Anti-Fairy grabbed the original and returned his monocle in its place. He scanned the articles and the paragraphs, footnotes and addendums, rights and forbearances, but could not for the life of him realise the purpose of this garbage.

ʺThe catch?ʺ

ʺFine print. You are going to need an electronic microscope.ʺ

ʺYou are joking.ʺ

ʺThere. Between the lines in the parenthesis. This is the main part.ʺ

Using a gigantic electronic microscope to read a contract was really not Anti-Cosmoʼs idea of how one should spend the early hours of the morning. He adjusted the screws and held his monocle in place as he positioned himself. Two lengthy sentences almost gave him a cardiac arrest.

ʺYou...giving me... us...oh, evil be praised, godchildren.ʺ

ʺAs a start, only those that qualify. The same clause is present in the version meant for the Council. But ours has a few twists.ʺ

ʺWhy this? Jorgen, why are you doing this? Why, now?ʺ

ʺBecause that is the only way for Winston to be assigned to Anti-Jorgen and the Anti-Tooth Fairy. He would be out of reach of Fairy jurisdiction and under your protection.ʺ

ʺAnd why should I agree to getting you out of the mess that is entirely the product of your negligence? It is not my fault that you have initiated the transformation in Winston.ʺ

ʺThe fine print beneath the fine print next to the lines. On every odd page.ʺ

It took him a great deal of strength to resist the urge to throw the contract in HPʼs face. He began to search the relevant information. A diabolical grin appeared on his face and he continued with a newly found vitality. Oh, what a discovery. Full freedom of creation...official status...guaranteed security...and a little present.

ʺNot that I am complaining, but this is high treason. I like it. So, Jorgen, when did you figure this out? Inspired by the Trojan horse, no doubt.ʺ

ʺContinue reading and shut your trap.ʺ

Anti-Cosmo was thrilled. Extremely happy. Going through pure ecstasy. Lightning appeared out of nowhere and his cackle echoed throughout the entire Fairy World. Removing his eye from the ocular, he indulged himself in a small victory dance and proclaimed all Fairies idiotic losers that would one day bow to him.

ʺAC, quit the whole evil cliché routine and just sign the damn thing.ʺ

* * *

><p>Early adolescent years represent a period of time in which one learns the basics of social customs and tedious rules of conduct. Reality itself often has a different definition of them and applies it with impunity. Often it throws random obstacles and unexpected benefits to those that would normally merit a prize more akin to their behaviour and treatment of their peers. As time goes on with its endless journey, children grow and divide themselves into ridiculous groups that exclude those who do not meet their requirements. The lonely congregate with their kindred souls and form little groups of their own. Timmy was almost schizophrenic when it came to these things; one part of him wanted to be loved and accepted in the ranks of the popular kids, while the other was perfectly content to remain an eccentric outlaw that actually gave a damn about his true friends. The latter part was stronger, but the former would always try to grab the spotlight.<p>

Little lies, silly selfish wishes and a desire to be admired were his favourite recipe for a spicy catastrophe. But, his noble side would always punch his lower self in the face and grab the steering wheel to make a rapid turn before they both crashed themselves at the gates of oblivion. In short, he was a good person at heart. The only problem was that he would often confuse his arrogance with bravery and his cynicism with malice. In truth, his arrogance was malice and his cynicism bravery. His secret world-weary frame of spirit was the main source of his clever ideas and the ability to value the love he felt for those that would not stay with him forever.

He stared at the ceiling and did his best not to scream just for the heck of it. Insomnia had been killing him for the past few weeks and he had had enough of trying to explain to his parents that the purple bags under his eyes were probably just a sign of puberty; idiots. It could not be explained with words. He was turning twelve in March and was probably breaking all records when it came to the length of time of being in possession of Fairies. Three, no less.

He buried his head in the fluffy pillows and begged for his conscious mind to drift away so it could let him rest and sleep, but to no avail. Maybe it was the fact that Cosmoʼs pleading eyes had made his nerves crack. Munching contests were serious business. No, it must have been Wandaʼs strict, albeit adorable, expression when she had watched them dive into a giant cake like a bunch of hogs. The woman had the patience of a Sphinx. She had not been particularly overjoyed when both of them pulled her in to participate in the messy chaos, but she laughed nonetheless. Cosmoʼs strange little pearls of wisdom that could serve as a cure for both manic depression and psychosis. Wandaʼs ability to remain serious while saying something unbelievably funny. Love. Odd love. Cosmo and Wanda...the only ones that deserved the honour of calling themselves his parents. He had given them a little treasure in return. Violet eyes that made him melt with joy and forget the evil that lurks behind every corner. When will Poof be able to talk?

_"Emotional much, Tim?"_

ʺShut the heck up, you moron.ʺ

_"I am not even gifted with speech"._

ʺTragic.ʺ

_"You won__ʼ__t be able to keep them. Don__ʼ__t be such a prick when I point out the truth you are unwilling to acknowledge."_

ʺNega, you are lucky I am too tired to start a real fight with you.ʺ

_"Excuse me? I am you, you self-righteous bastard! All of this is you. You are having an inner monologue. It takes two in order to have a dialogue. I merely stand for all the emotions you perceive as negative, your fears and anger, your desires and suspicion. I am using the first person singular because you allow me to. Not to mention the necessity of being practical. You shove me in the darkness because, you have to admit, I am your common sense. Intelligence and imagination. I am the strength you use to defeat your enemies, I am the heart that keeps you from hiding from your mishaps, I am ambition and determination. Remember what your dad said to you two years ago? Be good. It would have been different if he had told you to be yourself. Then you would have turned into your opposite. Me? You became what you thought was evil. Not the opposite. You just became a different version of yourself. A typical villain would try to destroy the world. You went for the freaking make-up factory. That was your subconscious mind telling you that you hate it when people hide behind lies; you were sick of pretending to be something you will never be just to make people see you in a different light. An interesting way of assuring freedom to all those ashamed of their looks. The idiotic lair and clothes were just an embarassing bonus, primarily because you yourself thought that they were necessary."_

ʺWhat a revelation. I already know all that. Hmph, destroying a make-up factory. The very source of human hypocrisy and the endless need to hide their imperfections behind a cheap layer of goo. I was doing them all a favour. So what if their social life goes through a drastic change? We could all be happy and ugly. No prob. Plus, I got to scare the crap out of Crocker. ʺ

_"Yep."_

ʺBut Cosmo and Wanda are off limits. There is no way I am opening that subject. Not untill I actually have to. And even then, I am prepared to fight with all my strength to keep them. I have already broken enough rules and survived such horrors just to stay their godchild. I saved Fairy World countless times, and this is how they reward me? By shunning me and doing all just to get rid of me? You know, maybe I should just let HP and Anti-Cosmo use Jorgenʼs head as a football prop.ʺ

_"Ah, we should film it and upload it on TooYube! One million likes in the first few hours. Go modern technology, yay!"_

ʺOh, I can see it happening. That would even make all the Fairies happy.ʺ

_"You would still have the Council on your back. Can we build a little teeny laser to blast their hoods to cinders?"_

ʺNo.ʺ

Timmy could see the first orange rays of the early sun. Five in the morning, no doubt there. Things had changed quite a bit in the last few months. Maturity was the primary culprit. The sign of his transformation being the fact that he was finally making peace with his inner demons. Gone were his toys, only the comics remained. He had even taken upon himself the task of denying Crocker the pleasure of humiliating him and ruining his sanity. It had been difficult for him to finally take out his math textbook and concentrate on the numbers that had a grudge against him, but he refused to give in. Hours and hours, days and days, weeks, months. Crockerʼs nervous breakdown when Timmy had received top grades in all subjects. A.J. making a small wink and congradulating him.

A well phrased wish and he had been capable of reconstructing Trixieʼs feelings before her memory was erased. A difficult and risky task for both Cosmo and Wanda; it was a success and they had been able to grasp that tiny bit of emotion and bringing it to the surface without actually touching her mind. He had then endeavoured to let things take their natural course. Comic store, her usual disguise, his careless walk, the two of them bumping into each other. Of course, her first reaction had frightened the living hell out of Timmy. When had she become so aggressive? But then he had sought to placate her by trading his rare edition with several of her own. To his surprise, she had agreed and shook his hand, nearly breaking his fingers.

It turned out to be an interesting friendship, one that required a certain dose of creativity and secrecy, but they did manage to go to the arcade every weekend. She would murder him on every game they played. He could not ask for more.

Five twenty. Five twenty and ten seconds...and an approaching headache with questionable intentions. Growing older. Curiosity worming its evil way into his consciousness and throwing ghastly scenarios in front of his dry eyes.

ʺI HATE THIS!ʺ

ʺPoof?ʺ

ʺOh, gosh, did I wake you up?ʺ

His godbrother floated above his head and crossed his arms. He conjured up a paper and pencil and scribbled something down, mumbling incoherent words under his breath. Timmy suddenly found himself with a very rude message. (_Of course you woke me up! Take your puberty angst elsewhere or get a freaking grip.)_

ʺOh, I am touched. Look, it is not my fault. Can you imagine what I have to keep on reliving? There is only one wish I have and none of you can grant it.ʺ

ʺPoof poof! Hmmm, poof?ʺ

ʺI want to see you grow up, buddy. ʺ

Some part of Timmyʼ common sense was begging him to shut up, for fear that Poof would cause some disaster if he were to give in to sadness. But, the image of his Fairies searching for the grave of someone who had been condemned to a permanent void made his insides twist. Poof did nothing; he just stared in the cerulean eyes of his godbrother, containing himself. He blinked a few times and bowed his head. Tears were useless. As he approached, he landed on top of Timmyʼs head and began to play with his hair. His lip quivering. Young children were not used to such distress, but he had been able to keep his balance and made an attempt to soothe Timmy. He buried his nose in Timmyʼs bang and made an attempt at singing. Melancholy sounds permeated the room and a betraying tear escaped Timmyʼs left eye. His right eye followed. Something impeding him from removing them, but soon he felt them disappear completely, as if they were never there.

ʺPoof, did you just cast a spell?ʺ

The confusion only augmented when he felt Poof shake his head. Timmy made a slight motion with his hand to take Poof down, but he stopped, shocked and mouth agape. Small purple sparks dancing merrily around his fingers.


	2. Ascension

Burning incense had no power over the decrepit heart of the malevolent spirit that had taken residence in Dimmsdale. Fatigue and age were taking their shameful toll, bitterness conquering all remaining bastions of crippled innocence. Mundane tasks and futile efforts corroding the spirit that had long ago specialised in the task of sprinkling malice with ridiculous ease. He took another drag from his Marlboro cigarette, disgusted by the fact that the water had already become lukewarm. Smoke and vapour had been necessary for him to numb his senses and summon the soothing touch of oblivion. Ethereal Pink Floyd echoed throughout the house. The horizon served as a stage for an enchanting display of golden and crimson, promising a new cold February morning. He tried to make a mental dissection of himself. The soft tissue of love had succumbed to necrosis, black bittersweet nectar of wickedness coursing through his soul like blood, benedictions and admiration once received had become a rusty blade in his chest. Denzel crushed the cigarette in the ashtray next to his bathtub and spat on the floor.

ʺNote to self: burn every New Age book in sight.ʺ

Five hours in the morning. He submerged himself once more, quite eager in his attempt to banish all erroneus thoughts from his decaying mind. And there were many. Chrysanthemums falling around the picture of his mother. Infernal flames charring butterfly nets, valuable notes and precious information once collected with the patience of a meticulous medieval scribe ruthlessly torn to pathetic pieces of cellulose material, volumes and volumes on Fae subspecies donated to schools and universities. He had nearly broken his already mutilated back while carrying gargantuan bags of cement and sealing the basement. Incense burning in every nook and cranny of his solitary home. Thirteen seconds passed and he returned to the surface, begging to be absolved and released, hoping that he would be purged of the madness that had been devouring his aching insides.

He grabbed his bathrobe and carefully stepped on the tiles. His hands trembling.

ʺKnowing my luck, it could only be an early stage of Parkinsonʼs disease.ʺ

Neighbours had been banging on the front door for hours, the intercom buzzing and announcing the presence of a furious congregation of middle-aged men deprived of their precious slumber. Such events tend to occur when one decides to use the stereoʼs volume capacity to the maximum. Their suffering had made him glow with unbridled mirth.( _Such a wonderful symphony of cries and pleas.)._ They had given up eventually. Petty cruelty had proven itself as a loyal and trustworthy companion, an effective shield that served as protection against the arrows of mockery, an alkaline solution that neutralised the acid effect of insults, the silicon that filled up the holes in his lonely life. Empathy had been banned to the barren lands of indifference.

He adjusted his spectacles and decided that it was high time for him to ingest an unhealthy amount of caffeine; the final refuge of a man that had regurgitated his very essence in order to comply with the silent wish of the person he had pushed into the cold embrace of non-being. Truth be told, the house was completely demolished. Disturbing illustrations and incoherent words covering the floral wallpaper, broken glass shattered all over the floor, pictures stained with tears arranged with respect and piety in the middle of a circle of black ribbons, morose chrysanthemums invoking the whisper of death, mirrors covered with black shrouds. Merry bonfires swallowing all his high-tech paraphernalia; empty cement bags representing the sad memory of the Crocker Cave being sealed and banished from his conscious thoughts.

Deciding that it would be best to add the finishing touches to the funeral pyre of his dignity, he descended to the living room and turned the volume down. He could feel the bile rise to his mouth. Something was off. A small lapis lazuli figurine of a grinning Robin Goodfellow. Perpetually frozen in the act of rubbing his hands and planning mischief. Denzel had never purchased anything that had to do with the half-bred son of Oberon. He took the odd little thing from the shelf and grabbed his mobile phone.

ʺBlasted imps, goblins and hobgoblins. Creating werelights in marshes and drowning gullible cretins, tying knots in our hair during the night, bringing bad luck...ʺ

Denzel dialed the number of the person that had represented both his salvation and potential demise. Her fiery tresses condemning him and inciting an heinous combination of lust and revulsion. Constant pondering. He went to fetch the coffee pot and placed the phone between his ear and shoulder. Robin Goodfellow ended up on the microwave.

ʺ_H-Hello?ʺ_

ʺHave you ever read anything by Pedro Calderon de la Barca?ʺ

ʺ_Denzel?! Do you have any idea what time it is?ʺ_

ʺVaguely...Answer.ʺ

ʺ_I know you are still in mourning, but it has been almost a month. You canʼt keep on acting like a spoiled child that doesnʼt get what it craves. Regardless, I finally made up my mind. I have tolerated you for far too long. I am giving up on this comedy.ʺ_

ʺWench, answer me!ʺ

_ʺNo. I am finished with you.ʺ_

ʺTough luck, Geraldine, I am not finished with you. Letʼs begin our little lesson. De la Barca was a renowned Spaniard, one of the last representatives of the Golden Age of Spanish literature and an example of Baroque authors from the Iberian peninsula. Baroque disgusts me. Contrasts, oxymorons, showing off, excess, propaganda, starving poets writing masterpieces for the pleasure of idle aristocrats that sit on the bones and flesh of reason, withering beauty and _tempus fugit, _fabric of reality reduced to mere rags and the odious presence of _memento mori_ zealots, sublime and profane fornicating on the grave of sanity. Irregularly shaped pearl.ʺ

ʺ_Do you really think that my patience flows in rivers?ʺ_

ʺMy love for you flows to the sea of bitter tears and unspoken curses.ʺ

ʺ_...You are not capable of such a thing. You are a recluse, you are a walking wraith, dead and numb. I have spent decades waiting for you, adoring the air you inhaled, admiring the talents of an idiot that lacked ambition. I was dying with you, rotting away, my youth relegated to mere sparkling glitter that concealed the gruesome truth. I gave you everything, my support, my love, my virginity...I hate you...ʺ_

ʺI have a present for you. I hope you will appreciate it.ʺ

_ʺI donʼt need anything.ʺ_

_ʺ_Fairies donʼt exist.ʺ

ʺ_...What did you just...ʺ_

Denzel poured the coffee in a mug and focused his energy on keeping his knees from giving up on him.

ʺDonʼt make me repeat it. My terms: we pretend that it was all just a nightmare. Irrelevant shadows, deceitful apparitions, temporary infatuation. Products of a brain swimming in the dark fluid of solitude. That old geezer Calderon de la Barca claims that a man becomes a cruel beast when left to fend for himself, with darkness as his sole companion. Give him a kingdom and he will become a tyrant worthy of being overthrown and forgotten. Nature versus nurture. What am I, Geraldine? Am I a scorned heir, chased from his paradise into a cold dungeon? Condemned to chase a dream that never was and that will never grace my heart? Begging for light in my obscure underground prison? No. NO. I am waking up. I am sending it all to hell itself. Let them burn and I will not even blink. I want you. I want us. Let me in, allow me to be yours. Our time has come.ʺ

ʺ_...ʺ_

ʺForgive me. I will come to see you this evening.ʺ

He hung up before Geraldine had the chance to come up with a coherent sentence. Final stage of burying his pride and personality: completed and filed in the strictly protected area of his memories. He turned around and cast a glance at the little scoundrel on the microwave oven. What a wonderfully evil thing! Its features carved in the lapis lazuli with great care, its pointy hat covering the disheveled mane and its eyes practically glowing. Denzel closed his eyes and smiled; he remembered the first time when he opened the ballads of Ossian, the stories of Celtic folklore, the discovery of the celebration of the solstice and the equinox, the sacred properties of the mighty oak and the origin of the Danube in the old legends of the gods known as Tuatha De Danann, the very same that would later become associated with Fairies. He felt warmth...feelings of being safe and at home. True bliss. He thought of bonfires and Samhain, Goethe and his pantheism, nymphs dancing around waterfalls, old graveyards and monuments.

ʺWell, my impish friend, I guess we are facing the last seconds of my old ways. Any final requests before I give you over to that psychotic child that lives next door and has a convenient tendency to swallow random objects?ʺ

Thud and a flash of light. Denzel frowned and cursed under his breath, his eyes still protected by their lids.

ʺOh, son of a...I am ignoring it. I am in a perfect state of equanimity...oh, hell. Why wonʼt you devils leave me be?!ʺ

His eyes could not control themselves and they opened of their own accord. The figurine had vanished. Denzel blinked. He blinked again. Well, he yelped, too. He grabbed the counter to steady himself, hesitating and resisting the foul fruit of magic. Desperate in his attempt to control the rabid monster that clawed at his heart. Pace by pace, he approached the microwave. A small piece of paper was left as a consolation prize. He reached for it and scanned the elegant handwriting.

_Why, Denzel, thank you for such a cordial reception. The pleasure was all mine, I assure you. Let me express my great sorrow for your loss. Alas, I am incapable of offering a remedy for your current state of mind, and for that fault I can only give you a formal apology. Useless and unwanted. I would have loved to appear in person and finally make your acquaintance, maybe even lift that burden of guilt that torments you. Unfortunately, I had other affairs to regulate and I had found myself with only a few minutes to spare. Your little jest about me being a choking hazard was in poor taste; in other words, splendid. As for my requests, there are several. All of them being in your service. You told your damsel that Fairies no longer represent the core of your existence. I have some homework for you, so no cheating! No Fairies. A veil of obscurity conceals the truth; a herculean task awaits. Can you visualise the events that occured on your fifth birthday? I need you to seize the pattern of all the consecutive anniversaries of your birth. Your next assignment may present itself as inane and ludicrous. Write an essay for me about hobgoblins. Would you classify them as contra-Fairies?_

_Sincerely yours,_

_A.-C. A.-J. A.-C._

* * *

><p>Tendrils of vapour were floating over the scalding liquid, forming elegant abstract shapes, indulging themselves in a parody of a waltz before disappearing. The familiar scent of bergamot unsuccessfully tried to alleviate her ire. She added a few teaspoons of honey and a slice of lemon. Oh, while at it, she could have placed some cyanide; he had certainly deserved to writhe in agony. Anti-Cosmoʼs behaviour had been abysmal at best. Upon his sudden arrival somewhere at half past five in the morning, he had decided to regale the entire castle with an arrogant outburst characteristically found in the dark crevices of every prima donnaʼs imagination. Temper tantrums of unrealistic proportions had not been well received by the staff. A very annoyed group of gargoyles that served as prison guards had been rudely marched back to their post, not to mention the fact that they had to hand over their poker cards, along with their secret stash of beer. Hysteria had reigned supreme.<p>

It pained her to see the person she adored act in such a horrendous fashion. She knew him well enough to recognize the awful symptoms of an approaching scheme that would yet again have a detrimental effect on his health and whatever was left of his positive traits. Her instinct had long ago proven itself as a worthy opponent to his intelligence and cunning. Her simplistic approach to life and a healthy dose of minimalism would always lead her to satisfaction.

She had seen the telltale glint in his eyes, the sinister signs of nascent ambition, greed and ravenous hunger dancing around his soul like harlots. Heavy tomes and files had been zooming through the corridors, few of them hitting Foop in the process, poltergeists slowly making their way to the nearest exit, for fear that their Master had finally abandoned the last vestiges of his sanity. Eyes reduced to a toxic green, his charm and chivalry had rotten away and offered their throne to the somber sobriety. He had summoned his lieutenants and generals to attend an urgent conference in the privacy of his cabinet; when the last of them had arrived, the grand gates sealed themselves shut. Maledictions and enchantments had been cast in order to deter unwanted visitors. The gravity of the situation had manifested itself in the form of an unprecedented anomaly: the presence of her former paramour. Anti-Juandissimo had long ago vowed that he would never come anywhere near Anti-Cosmoʼs abode, but their professional relationship remained unscathed.

Anti-Wanda had been sitting in the kitchen and enjoying the company of mozzarella sandwhiches during the first few hours of the meeting. Protection spells notwithstanding, the combined magic of the assembly had been capable of carving itself into the stone walls. Noxious fumes had appeared out of nowhere and her snack had turned to ashes. It had been enough for her to switch on her lucid self and concentrate her efforts on discovering the purpose of the entire spectacle. Meanwhile, the meeting itself had become a virtual reconstruction of the G_rand Guignol._ Their heated discussion had been the epitome of chaos and outrage, a cacophony of gasps and signs of disapproval. Chairs had been flying out the window well into the late afternoon, which inevitably led to the need to throw dissidents in their stead. Anti-Binky had been causing damage just to provide himself a source of amusement, Anti-Juandissimo was far from amused when he was almost catapulted by Anti-Cupid in the general direction of Anti-Cosmo. Some of them had conspired to create a shower of anvils. Anti-Studwell had stoically endured the nonsense caused by his younger peers and did his best to ignore them by reciting the properties of the hypothalamus in his head.

Consensus: definition unavailable. Rage had been rising like mercury in a thermometer. Somewhere in the middle of the Anti-Tooth Fairyʼs attempt to make Anti-Binkyʼs teeth rot, Anti-Cosmo had decided to put his crew back in their place by placing shards of fear deep in their unsuspecting hearts. Menacing hounds had appeared out of the shadows, their eyes sharing the same emerald glow of their creator, their spectral forms floating around their victims and inducing hallucinations. Vicious vipers descending from the chandelier and preparing themselves for a generous donation of venom. The onyx floor had become a hideous combination of tar and decomposing corpses. Anti-Cosmo had made a discrete signal and the revenants began their task of capturing the horrified guests and holding them in place. Satisfied with the production of the desired effects, Anti-Cosmo had proceeded with his sermon.

He had introduced them to the general rules and gave them instructions to ensure that the provisions of the contract would be efficiently brought to reality. He had congratulated the Anti-Tooth Fairy for becoming the first official Anti-Fairy godmother and handed her the file of her new charge. The rest of the inner circle of his confidants had received orders and tasks that included the evaluation of each Anti-Fairy and their capacity to be paired with a human.

Unfortunately, the awe-inspiring atmosphere had been shifted into a black comedy when the security system alerted them of some wretch trying to break into the room. Perfect timing. High-pitched screaming and sizzling sounds had been a fantastic addition to their evening and they all had a good laugh. Probably a rogue gargoyle eavesdropping, or maybe Foop. Oh, far from the truth.

If we were to connect Anti-Wandaʼs need to explore uncharted waters with the anonymous potential desecrator of Anti-Cosmoʼs private assembly, we would arrive at a disturbing conclusion. And to the main reason why she was currently resisiting the urge to place arsenic in his tea. May evil have mercy on him. She stared at the liquid and hoped that the cup would not start bouncing up and down. It did. A furious expression plastered itself on her usually mild and kind features. The air particles themselves were trembling and shying away, slithering azure rays of energy gathering around her. It was more than obvious that his finest porcelain would soon meet its premature demise.

She refused to believe that he did not deem her fit to act as his confidant. He had never been reluctant to disclose his darkest desires to her, his whispers forever eager to grace her with forbidden lore, his audacious caresses combined with arcane knowledge that would escape his lips. Seduction and intimate encounters had acquired an entirely different dimension with his passionate vows and promises of imprisoning the celestial powers for her, his determination to force Nature itself to worship her. No justification whatsoever for his lack of confidence; none of it could erase the dire fact that he had barely even spoken to her that day. She grabbed the cup and disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke, eager to persuade him that she had more sense than he gave her credit for and that he had no right to hide the details of his current agenda.

Her blood pressure went to forbidden heights when she materialised behind him. All alarms began to howl in her head when she finally corroborated that her malicious husband was indeed concocting a plot without her. Solemn notes never lie; Anti-Cosmoʼs penchant for the dramatic had always manifested through the use of one of the most revered objects in his possession.

True incarnation of unadulterated genius and exquisite mania, shameless and radiating demonic charm, he was lashing out mercilessly at the keyboard of the majestic organ. Twisted and sinful melodies were slowly forcing the entire castle to hum and vibrate, dragging it into the conversation between a deranged man and a resilient instrument. One would easily describe it as a battle for dominance, beauty dancing with deformity, constantly resisting its amorous advances. Jealous thunderclaps could not resist and were quite adamant in their will to present themselves as an essential part of the fugue, lightning serving as a perfect way to accentuate his distorted features and trademark grin. It was a miracle that his shoulders had not yet dislocated from all the frantic movements of his arms.

Anti-Wanda glared daggers at him. She cleared her throat unceremoniously and waited for him to react. The organ would not have it; the heathen mistress continued with her loud roaring and refused to grant the legitimate spouse undisturbed access to the intoxicated husband. It was the perfect opportunuity to apply the methods she would never even dream of using on Foop. It is not every day that we bear witness to such a surreal display of cruelty; Anti-Cosmo had never been dragged off the tabouret by the ear.

ʺAre you daft?! That hurts!ʺ

ʺYou should be happy I ainʼt throwing yer tea in yer face! Yer up to no good and ya didnʼt tell me anything. Weʼre supposed to be in this together!ʺ

ʺBeloved…care to elaborate? And why is that cup approaching my eyes?ʺ

ʺYa big snobby bozo! What in tarnation is goinʼ on under my roof? Why are there traps all over the blazinʼ building?! I almost got fried like a chicken wing on them doors of your working room!ʺ

ʺThat was you?! I gave explicit orders that were supposed to be followed verbatim. Why did the gargoyles allow you to go to the antechamber?! I will have them flogged alive; you could have gotten yourself severely damaged! Is that what you want? You think I donʼt trust you? Woman, I am your slave, bound and condemned to an infinity of servitude. Better dead than despised by your innocent gaze.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie…what happened last night? I told ya so, you know. Yer mean when yer upset.ʺ

ʺBefore I commence with the irksome details, I would like to apologize for my atrocious lack of manners. I should have come to you immediately and respected your position in this world. Mother is right when she says that I am the replica of my sire; unjust and cold.ʺ

ʺNah, yer a marshmallow with a monocle and a little bowler hat.ʺ

ʺA minute of silence for the death of my pride.ʺ

ʺ…ʺ

ʺMuch obliged, dear. Now, we have some serious problems waiting for us around the corner. Dolores-Day is no longer living.ʺ

ʺW-what?! Tarnation, Anti-Blonda, does she… did she feel it?ʺ

ʺHeavily sedated. January the 12th had triggered a domino effect. Anti-Studwell had administered a large dose of Anti-Blondaʼs analgetics that day, rendering her completely numb to pain. Simultaneously, Dolores-Day had exhaled her final breath. You know very well that your sister serves as an indicator of death in Aldenʼs line of descendants. If she does not register it, neither do we. Dolores-Day has been gone for weeks.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie! Our darlinʼ nephew probably wants someone with him!ʺ

ʺI received a Hex Message from Anti-Studwell as I was preparing for departure from Fairy World. They had endeavoured to rehabilitate her through the use of placebo capsules last night, considering the fact that she had been on potent medication for the past few months. Her first reaction was categorized as a regular detoxification fever. However, her condition began to worsen…wailing sounds of a banshee that mourns the loss of her other half. She…she tried to scratch her face off…another bit of her magic disappeared with Dolores-Day.ʺ

ʺDonʼt…ʺ

ʺI went straight to the hospital and I held her until four in the morning. They returned to her former treatment…ʺ

ʺMy sis.ʺ

ʺWhich brings us to the main issue. Something went loose in Denzelʼs fragile spirit. For evilʼs sacred name, the Fairies had injected exorbitant amounts of forgeticine in his organism and permanently destroyed his physical body at the tender age of ten. I had not been familiar with the circumstances of his current predicament and state of mind, but my hunch was confirmed when I arrived at his house later on. Faith no longer exists in him. He holds nothing but despair. Do you understand?ʺ

ʺGoodness gracious.ʺ

ʺI still find it mad to believe how the Saturnian energies worked in our favour. Do you know what this means, my dark maiden?ʺ

ʺFer the first time, I do. And I think Iʼm gonna need a glass of schnapps.ʺ

ʺDenzel no longer believes in Fairies! My prayers and hopes finally answered. Do you know what the best part is? I am the only one that figured it out the very moment Jorgen told me about the magical interdiction disappearing from his core.ʺ

ʺI thought you were saving the kittens with Jorgen.ʺ

ʺWe can call it that way. I saved one kitten, and more will come. The entire realm will be full of kittens! An army of powerful evil kittens.ʺ

ʺI think yer losing yer possums.ʺ

ʺDo you see?! Dolores-Day died, Denzel stopped believing in Fairies as a result, that fraction of a second was enough to drain the Big Wand to the point of aridity. The interdiction that impedes the Fairies from reproduction had lifted temporarily and granted freedom. Guess what else lifted?ʺ

ʺI really need that glass of schnapps.ʺ

ʺThey were able to bond with…ʺ

ʺNo! Not again, never, NOT AFTER WHAT HAPPENNED TO US!ʺ

ʺ…ʺ

ʺDo you see my sister? Are ya that stupid? Alden is buried alive. Anti-Binky no longer tells up from down, Anti-Tooth Fairy still talks to herself, are ya mad?! What did you do?ʺ

ʺI…wait a moment. Did you just frighten me? I am impressed.ʺ

ʺI am not watchinʼ children die again. I am not scratchinʼ at prison bars anymore. Where are all the adult witches? Why didnʼt they come to see us when we escaped? They hate us. They think we betrayed them.ʺ

ʺDarling, your accent. You are returning back to your ancient self.ʺ

ʺI am the Anti-Fairy of mercy and tenderness, not the mind. I sense, I donʼt think. I bring bad luck to cruel ones. I target them on our Friday. I love, that is what my mission is.ʺ

ʺAnti-Wanda, upon the constellation of Scorpio and the star of Antares, Jorgen will pay. He will drown in his own blood, consumed by the agony of the helpless, I will rip his eyes out and force him to swallow them, I will unleash the underground demons on Fairies, I will break their minds and enslave all that is.ʺ

ʺYer cute. Yer just tryinʼ to make me feel better.ʺ

She felt him grab the cup from her hand and gasped when he threw it in an unknown direction, the porcelain letting out its death cry and shattering on the floor. He crushed his lips to hers and pulled her against his form, his hands roaming, teasing and fondling, inviting her into his trap, weaving a web of devilish intentions. She tore at his sapphire broach and scarf, her nails scratching his chest, her fire destroying his ice, playing with his patience as if it were an innocuous toy. She failed to seize the fact that he had teleported them to their chamber, the black silk of the soft bed beneath her back irrelevant and unworthy of second thought. She flipped him over and ended on top.

ʺI win!ʺ

ʺSuch a sweet surrender; what awaits me?ʺ

ʺSomethinʼ terrible.ʺ

ʺYes?ʺ

ʺYouʼll be doinʼ the dishes forever!ʺ

ʺCruel woman. My turn!ʺ

Her merry laughter echoed throughout the room as he rolled them over. He began a journey of soft kisses from her mouth, over her collarbone, and to her chest.

ʺI had something far more enticing planned. I shall punish you with a thousand kisses, torture you with sinful caresses and evil embraces, I will make you scream.ʺ

ʺCan I ask you somethinʼ?ʺ

ʺYes.ʺ

ʺYa didnʼt tell me all that happened in Fairy World.ʺ

ʺGodchildren, my love. We are allowed to have those wonderful creatures and we can shape their minds however we wish.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cozzie!ʺ

ʺThe Fairy Council has no idea about the true nature of the arrangement. They think that Jorgen is creating a test for us in the field of godparenting. In fact, we are keeping our little darlings for an eternity. Witches, beloved, we can turn them into witches. Our magical core bound to their souls, our energy flowing freely and taking their hearts. They will be completely under our influence. Ours forever. There is more, of course. If a Fairy sees a child practice magic, they wonʼt be able to alert the authorities. The words will choke in their throat. The same applies to Fairy godchildren. And, when they lose their Fairies, they will fall in our hands. Jorgen was desperate to save his lad.ʺ

ʺIʼm gonna get a human child?ʺ

ʺAs much as possible.ʺ

ʺOh, how precious. Lilʼ darlinʼ kids running all over the place and hiding yer monocle.ʺ

ʺNot on my watch. Where were we, my black flower?ʺ

Their tender erotic moment was rudely interrupted by a certain little devil that barged in the room. Foop was carrying an enormous pile of books, his vision obscured.

ʺMOTHER! For once I find myself in dire need of your undivided attention and assistance and you make yourself scarce! Miss Powers is abusing her position and making me write an essay about the joy and serenity of motherly love! Heresy and outrage! Fortunately, I am sharing my living space with your smothering emotions. I need your advice.ʺ

He moved his head to the left and almost fainted when he beheld his parents in such a compromising position.

ʺOh, that is just appalling. You two make Marquis de Sade look like an impotent friar. Father, hand her over. My education is far more important than your libido.ʺ

ʺFoop, you have three seconds to get out of the room before I blast you to the other corner of the galaxy.ʺ

* * *

><p>Protagonists: a tall adolescent female with cruel crystal eyes and a pubescent lad with shoulder length messy brown hair. Both engrossed in their schoolwork, frowning and determined not to fall asleep. The girl sat on the edge of the bed and balanced two heavy books in her hand. Her gaze averted to the boy sitting at the desk and she started to chew on her black highlighter. Trixie had pulled her hair up in a chignon and covered it with a gray hat. Her matching gray sweater and jeans a perfect combination for her charade. It was difficult to grasp her pathological need to lie about her true personality, deception and fabrications conspiring to lead her to perdition. She pulled her legs up and threw an eraser in Timmyʼs direction. All she got was an irritated groan; boredom was descending upon her like a disease.<p>

ʺSay something amusing.ʺ

ʺSomething amusing.ʺ

ʺIʼm serious.ʺ

ʺAha.ʺ

ʺOh, come on. I wanted to discuss the ambiguous nature of vigilantes in comics.ʺ

ʺTrixie, we have an exam tomorrow. Weʼll be living like vagabonds if Crocker decides to fail us.ʺ

ʺWhy not? Freedom, no responsibility, perfect resignation.ʺ

ʺNo hair salons.ʺ

ʺWeʼll think of a solution.ʺ

ʺNo comics. There go our essential supplies for a healthy life.ʺ

ʺSarcasm is the lowest form of wit.ʺ

ʺOnly to those who canʼt stand it.ʺ

ʺMy, my, when did you become such a well of wisdom?ʺ

ʺI lead a double life.ʺ

ʺJoin the club, Timster. I make Batman look like Robin.ʺ

ʺI suggest you return to question number five. We never get that 18th century crap right. What exactly do we need to know about the Enlightenment?ʺ

ʺKnowing Crocker, we need to know the basics of philosophy, litterature and politics. Just keep on writing about Rousseauʼs pre-romanticism and call it a night.ʺ

ʺWhen do you have to leave?ʺ

ʺMother hasnʼt left her country club for days. She gets a bit tipsy after a few glasses of brandy and she stays in her rented quarters. Father is stuck in a parallel dimension full of frigid business nonsense. I guess Iʼll stay here. I am lucky to have a normal friend I can actually rely on. Who needs that sappy sweetness? That is what girl friends are for. You are irreplaceable to me.ʺ

Timmy failed to conceal the odious blush that invaded his cheeks without even asking his permission. His inner voice went mute and his stomach was packing its bags and leaving on the next bus. He placed his hand on his frantic heart. He detached himself from his immediate reality and mentally slapped his emotional demons into submission. Mistakes were forbidden.

ʺTimster, you should see those old hags Mother socialises with. All that application of rouge and powder…they almost look like cheap ladies of the night. Fake, faux, false. And I am just like them. I am a shell without a pearl. I am not even a shell…a barnacle, I guess. I cling to those that have no choice but to accept their divine punishment. I am addicted to approval. Goodness, if I end up like my mother…drunk in a country club and faking a British accent.ʺ

Indeed, one could easily detect an unhealthy concentration of angst and advanced self-loathing in the atmosphere; same object, different subject. Such things tend to be quite contagious in early adolescence. Experiments conducted in a safe environment bring forth dull conclusions. Fortunately, Timothy Turner was an expert at introducing chaos and mayhem into the lives of those around him. He grinned as an idea formed in his thoughts.

ʺWho says anything about faking? Watch and learn from the pro.ʺ

ʺUm, what do you mean?ʺ

ʺThrow me that highlighter.ʺ

She complied with his strange request and tilted her head in confusion. Her jaw dropped when she saw him draw a black circle around his right eye. He slicked his hair back and straightened his shirt. Using a ruler as an impromptu cane, he began prancing around the room like a mindless idiot.

ʺOh, my, what are you doing?! Geesh, youʼre insane.ʺ

She almost fell on her rear when she heard his accent.

ʺNow, now, Patricia, ladies do not act that way! Shoulders straight, come on! We do not need hunchbacks at our fancy club. What are you laughing at? Only savages do that! Oh, the Queen may drop by, you know…old girl just keeps on going and going since the Edwardian era…sad, sad. Oh, and what about that outfit? Did Mary Stuart complain when they ripped it off her corpse? Sheʼs been haunting my bathroom lately so I gave her your address. Hope you donʼt mind, deary. All is fair in country clubs and fashion. Stop, laughing, Patricia, you will create wrinkles in your face!ʺ

ʺI canʼt breathe! Stop using my full name, _Timothy_.ʺ

ʺIgnorrrrramus! We do not need nicknames at the country club! You need to have at least four names, each of them having over twenty letters. Stop laughing!ʺ

ʺWhere did you learn to act like that?ʺ

ʺI sorta have a crazy British uncle. Comes by from time to time and wrecks the place.ʺ

ʺLucky you.ʺ

ʺLuck is not his area. Frosted scones are.ʺ

The pair resumed their game, laughing merrily and teasing with acerbic remarks. Both under the careful watch of his godparents. They had assumed a miniature size and were floating over the shelf. Cosmo was smirking and nudging his wife in the ribs. Wanda was doing her best to avoid his comments. And failing miserably.

ʺThat boy will do anything to score a date. Oh, he is all grown up!ʺ

ʺUsing our enemy as a means to score a date is far from mature behaviour. I canʼt believe he is doing this.ʺ

ʺExcuse me, but you heard the man: watch and learn. They are playing, let them. I ran you over with a car when we fell in love, remember? Timmy is too young to drive and Trixieʼs face looks better when not covered with bits of asphalt!ʺ

ʺI need my medicine; what are you doing?ʺ

ʺMaking a list of celebrities. You think heʼll be able to do a believable Betty White?ʺ

ʺFive bucks he wonʼt.ʺ

ʺYouʼre on, babe.ʺ

* * *

><p>He lifted up the collar of his old jacket as he walked down the trailer park, secretly wishing he could break the neck of the sociopath that had seen it fit to christen it with the abominable name of <em>Happy Trails.<em> Cruel mockery worthy of undistilled contempt. The cold wind was burning his face and his blonde hair was dancing around his head. He had been feeding a small family of cats that lived in an abandoned cottage several dozen meters away from his home. He had had to procure some warm blankets for them and make sure that there were no cracks in the windows; the kittens had rewarded him with their low purrs. Poverty had no real effect on him, destitution and frugality impotent in front of his warm and generous spirit. Two strong pillars stood as invisible guardians on either side of his mind and form, one representing the oceans of affection he held for all living creatures, the other his moral compass that despised fanatics and all forms of apathy. Naiveté was his primary fault. Soaring pride coupled with hidden shame.

He searched his pockets for the key and entered his humble living quarters. Chester had gone through hell and back just to make the place livable. A group of moths had decided to organize a party in the wardrobe, which led to the death of most of his pullovers. Sighing, he opened the cupboard beneath the sink and extracted a cardboard box full of yarn and thread. Patching up ancient pieces of cloth had become a routine for him in the late afternoon. The plastic plates were washed and stored away in foil for preservation, the trash was thrown out and there was not a single particle of dust on the table. He took his jacket off and threw it on the bed. Bucky had finally bought decent furniture for them to sit on.

Chester placed the box on the table and went rummaging through the meager pile of salvageable clothes.

Well, at least they had been worth saving earlier that day.

ʺFor crying out...what the heck are those monsters made of?! Itʼs freaking Resident Evil in here!ʺ

He held up a partially disintegrated sweater as if to convey his message; no amount of thread available to restore its former use. He discarded it and leaned his head on the table. New clothes were the only reasonable option and he had no intention of torturing himself with a lost cause. The urge to start banging his head against the corner of the sink was tempting. Several minutes later, he shot a murderous glare at the far end of the room. A small spider was nestled in its silky web and it gave away an air of complete indifference to its obligations. Chester almost imagined it selling out tickets to unwelcome insects.

ʺYou. Are. Completely. Useless.ʺ

The events that followed had certainly not been planned in Chesterʼs schedule. A gruff voice with a Cockney accent was eager to defend itself from the heinous accusation.

ʺDonʼt get your knickers in a twist, Cheshire. Thereʼs enough misery in ʼere to power Chicago for decades. Youʼre lucky I ainʼt gonna press charges for giving me bloody gastritis with all this saccharine woe-is-me self-righteous nonsense and that weak excuse for an emotion. Come on, give your true anger...let it drip like the darkest chocolate squeezed right out of your beating red heart, twisting and burning poison so delectably bitter and creamy, yesss...pure essence of hatred...ʺ

As the voice continued, it gradually became unusually smooth and tender, deep and mesmerizing. The accent disappeared entirely and it was nigh impossible to identify it as the same person. Chester just stared at the spider. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords went on a strike. The arachnid disappeared in a cloud of dark blue smoke. Chester had recovered the use of his voice and he springed to get his baseball bat to use as a weapon if necessary.

ʺI am armed!ʺ

ʺBad little bat, you wound me. Is that the way to treat your dear old godfather?ʺ

ʺGodfather? I am pretty sure that Dad didnʼt summon demons during my early childhood to play house.ʺ

ʺYour papa canʼt even summon the police to arrest that trash that keeps on placing bombs in your mailbox.ʺ

ʺCoward! Why donʼt say that to my face? Where are you hiding?ʺ

ʺLook up, Cheshire.ʺ

Chester tried to sort his scattered thoughts, drops of perspiration falling down his cheek, his lungs refusing the air he imposed on them. His eyes shot up and he found himself facing a pair of jovial rubies. Their owner was holding a golden chalice and thoroughly enjoying its contents. Inebriated and detached from terrestrial cares, the god waved his wand and transformed the decor of the trailer into a den fit for a carefree hedonist. He landed on a large cushion and popped his joints. Chester had no idea what to make of the entity that had chosen to haunt him.

ʺWhat in the name of street chocolate are you?!

ʺNo, no, love. What are you? The Bad Bat and the Black Cheshire Cat, born on a dirty mat, despised by many a rich brat, while they grew fat, for dinner you only had a rat, insulted by every single prat, your spirit never went flat, it refused to give a drat, even when laughed at.ʺ

Scarlet eyes glowing with sulphurous lust, famished and prepared to gorge themselves with the tender flesh of fear. The creature gulped down the liquid from the sumptuous chalice and snuggled up to a plush bear it had conjured out of thin air. Chester had arrived to the conclusion that the being was suffering from a severe form of schizophrenia. Its appearance did not differ much from its mental state. Impeccable upper part of a black tuxedo and a perfectly tied bow tie combined with a diaper. Its skin sharing the same hue with the depths of a haunted ocean, black hair with a bang that pointed upwards like a scythe, sinewy bat wings hanging lazily from its back. Chester threw his weapon aside and started to run for his life. An invisible pair of arms lifted him up in the air. He screamed out every curse word he knew.

ʺCome on, Cheshire...you can do better than that. My stomach is empty and I could use some flambéed anxiety...dipped in the marinade of envy, served with succulent spite, greed placed as filling in Belgian delights, oh, how beautiful...ʺ

ʺGoodness, I am never touching sugar again. I must be losing my mind.ʺ

ʺHappens. Better off without it. It hinders the senses.ʺ

ʺWho are you?ʺ

ʺI belong to the exalted offspring of the dreadful Styx, the honourable deity of the Underworld river, upon her name the gods swear their official oaths, the sacred name of hatred. Kratos and Bia my siblings and Eris my collaborator. I am the fuel that powers human hearts, their ugliest secrets, their madness, I am the raw and festering meat of unrequited affection, I am euphoria, I am passion unlimited, envy married to ambition. I am zeal. Therefore, my name is Zelos. But, since I gotta keep a low profile these days, they call me the Anti-Cupid…dumb, innit?ʺ

ʺDumbest thing on this side of Dimmsdale.ʺ

ʺI like you, kid.ʺ

ʺWhy Anti-Cupid? Your description kinda sounds like what Cupid could be.ʺ

ʺThou shalt not compare me with that foul caffeine addict! I am reality! Eros is a master of deception and confusion, he throws sugar and pink hearts wrapped in disgusting love notes and pretty pink pompous posh polished plastic potpourri, shallow sighs and gasps of virgins and lovesick morons, artificial, no depth, no nothing…ya wanna know what emotions really are? Love is a product of an undestined stillbirth, soaked in blood and misery, a rabid creature prepared to fight for life, love is when you are ready to cut your own organ out to save the other, love is when you tolerate insults and ridicule from those surrounding you to protect the person you crave, love is gore and death and pain. Are Romeo and Juliet famous for being happy? Are Tristan and Iseult enjoying the cute birds? Was my cousin Orpheus blessed with the warm naked body of Euridice?ʺ

ʺOkay, I get it. Geez, is there anyone that can control you? You are creeping the living daylights out of me.ʺ

As if on cue, Chester registered another male voice behind him. He felt himself being placed down and freed from Anti-Cupidʼs trap. He turned around to see a floating dark figure that frightened him even more than Anti-Cupid. It surprised him that the strange demons were the same size as he. The voice was like ice, echoing and imperious, almost like that of a very dark and menacing Crocker. There were hints of an accent long forgotten and chased away by incessant practice and work.

ʺAbomination! Scandalous and shameful. I leave you with the child for five minutes and you turn the house into a brothel! His father may come any second!ʺ

ʺGrumpy Bear! How nice of you to come.ʺ

ʺI told you not to call me that if you value dear life. Donʼt you dare approach me!ʺ

Chester blinked in surprise when he saw Anti-Cupid zoom over to the other creature. Despite all of its protests, Anti-Cupid managed to hug him, little blue hearts dancing around his head.

ʺGet off me before I rip your arms out of their sockets and beat you to a pulp with them. I hate you! Deal with it.ʺ

ʺAwww, I hate you, too!ʺ

It was difficult to find the right words to describe him. He had the appearance of a a very strict and conservative Spaniard, issued from the old noblesse of yore. Violet eyes scanning the area, questioning, filing everything, missing nothing, stopping on Chester. Long black hair tied back in a ponytail, a goatee on his chin, his ears pointed and pearly white fangs very close to ripping something apart. His black trench coat covering most of his body, a turtleneck sweater visible. The creature grinned and made a slight nod.

ʺChester…the broken mirror reflecting hideous human cruelty. Sweet boy, you must be devastated. Such wonders you possess. Beauty of character and an infinity of compassion, the treasures I value and cherish. You remind me of someone dear to me. Not you, Zelos. Oh, a gift from the heavens. My godchild and witchling, you have no idea how happy you make my old eyes.ʺ

ʺUh, youʼre welcome.ʺ

ʺI must warn you though. Your previous mistakes confirm the ancient rule. Good intentions lead to bad deeds. I will have to take care of your gullible nature.ʺ

ʺWhat is your name?ʺ

ʺFirst general and second in command to Anti-Cosmo, Anti-Fairy of righteous fury, specialised strategist and professional assassin Anti-Juandissimo Anti-Magnifico.ʺ

ʺYou kill people?ʺ

ʺThose who deserve it. And where I come from, a lot of them do.ʺ

ʺOkay, righteous fury, makes sense. This was adorable, but I really have to wake up. I need to return to sewing and prepare something for Dad. He is so tired in the evenings. I wish I could help him, but housework is all that is in my power.ʺ

ʺAlready granted. You can help him. You do.ʺ

ʺYeah, Cheshire…here is my nausea to speak for it.ʺ

ʺI guess you are both cute in your psychotic way. Too bad it is a dream.ʺ

ʺSee the onyx stars on our wands?ʺ

ʺYeah.ʺ

ʺThey exist to serve you.ʺ

ʺOh, I really donʼt think that there is any need.ʺ

Anti-Juandissimo came over to Chester and conjured a sphere of ethereal blue rays. The child stared at it full of wonder.

ʺI believe you lost this.ʺ

ʺHuh?ʺ

ʺMemories.ʺ

Ice splitting his consciousness, carving the hymn of sadness and betrayal in his mind, brief happiness with Norm, random voices and images, Timmy and his godparents, anger and spite, triumph over perfidy, banishment of the genie that brought sorrow. Suppressed fear, disappointment, pride, love, oh, such quantities…

ʺStop! It burns! IT BURNS! Fairies…real…you, sweet mother, you are really here!ʺ

ʺCheshire, I think I am gonna puke. Your emotions are like candy with caustic soda.ʺ

ʺNobody is going anywhere! I want an explanation! Where are all of you coming from? First Norm, then Timmy and that weird whirlpool, now this? No. Been there, done that, never going through it again! I was betrayed by one creature, who can tell if you two wonʼt do something like that? No thanks, I am happy with what I have. I have a sick father that needs me. No magic. Thank you, goodbye. Close the window behind you.ʺ

ʺEr, no can do, Cheshire. This is sort of a permanent thing. See, Grumpy Bear and me, weʼre a package deal. He is your Anti-Fairy, he grants wishes, and in the future he will be a familiar when you start to, er, show proficiency in throwing fire bolts or things of a similar nature. You can go scream it to the entire country, you will not lose him. He is the opposite of Fairies. I am a god, I give gifts, completely at my leisure. I too am your godparent, but also a patron. So, let us come to the abridged version and say that we are your new parents. Hug?ʺ

The key turned in the lock and the door opened. The trio stared at the exhausted silhouette that entered, holding the bag on its head and keeping the wind from blowing it away. Limping and dragging the remains of the mailbox behind him. He sauntered to the nearest chair and let his weak body fall down with a loud thud. Completely ignoring the fact that the trailer looked like a reconstruction of a Venetian palace and that there were two creatures floating in the room. He coughed a few times and groaned. He coughed again. And again. Chester felt his heart contract.

ʺSon, did you do something different today? Something looks strange.ʺ

ʺNah, the usual. Just sit down and warm yourself up. Give me that, why did you bring it in? I will take it back outside. Just stay, alright? For me.ʺ

Chester grabbed his godparents by the bow tie and collar respectively and marched outside, containing his tears and feeling nothing but rage.

ʺChester?ʺ

ʺAlright, you two, we need to set down some ground rules, here. Are you really staying? Really gonna be here with me? Whatever I do, however I beg you to leave?ʺ

ʺKid, we will bore the hell out of you with our delightful presence.ʺ

ʺI have a wish. It may seem strange, reckless and idiotic, but damn, it goes well with all of this.ʺ

Indeed it was. In fact, it reached the category of ludicrous behaviour. And Anti-Juandissimo could not believe what his godson was telling him. Anti-Cupid prepared a bag just in case. There was something about his godson and his emotions that did not do well to his palate and digestion. All the finest fibres of negative emotions drenched in pure love and sentiments of anger polluted by forgiveness. The next scene made him ill. Chester had released such a venomous combination of extreme sadness combined with altruism that he found himself writhing and gulping down wine like a madman. Thirty minutes later, Timmy was shocked to find that a partially unconscious Anti-Cupid had materialised in his bathroom, clutching his stomach and crying in pain.

ʺTurner, get out! Canʼt you have the common decency to give me some privacy?!ʺ

ʺWhat the…?ʺ

He was practically thrown out and the door slammed in front of him. He stood in the hallway, his hair still wet and a portable dryer in his hand. Confused and slightly unnerved, he made no sudden gestures and tried to repeat to himself that he should definitely consider a change of address. Preternatural creatures had practically turned the place into a hotel and train station. Foop coming and going as if he had taken permanent lodging there, Jorgen dropping a nuclear explosion or ten every day, aliens stealing the trash. He should start charging them. Sobs coming from the end of the hallway. Timmy reached for the switch and the light showed him a curled up child rocking back and forth like there was no tomorrow. An Anti-Fairy comforting it and whispering gently. Timmy gasped when he recognized it as Anti-Juandissimo.

ʺChester?! What is this?ʺ

ʺI have to tell you something.ʺ

ʺNo shit.ʺ

ʺI did something stupid! Oh, my goodness, what will become of us now?!ʺ

Meanwhile, Wanda was preparing her son for the night in their small castle. Cosmo was concentrating on playing a game of patience.

ʺThis is not even natural! I can cheat on myself whenever I want.ʺ

ʺI will not comment that.ʺ

ʺBut, look! Why does the ace go first in the upper corner? We have the king, the queen, the jack…ʺ

ʺGet up and help me if you are bored.ʺ

ʺYou have a Hex Message. From Jorgen.ʺ

ʺWell, open it.ʺ

ʺNo way, Jose, last time I opened something from that maniac, my head ended up on Sumatra.ʺ

ʺFor crying out, give me that! What could be so important at this late hour of…oh, my goodness.ʺ

ʺYeah, your head is still in place.ʺ

Both of them completely oblivious to the droll situation in the hallway. Timmy, Chester and Anti-Juandissimo were sitting on the floor in front of the bathroom door. The somber and grim assassin rubbing the bridge of his nose and muttering in his maternal tongue, Chester munching on a bar of chocolate and Timmy handing him fresh tissues. There were several things bothering Timmy. One, the fact that Anti-Cupid was making such sounds that made him seriously worried abot the toilet. Two, the incredible truth that Anti-Fairies were granted permission to have godchildren. Three, the fact that Chester was one of them. Four, he could not comprehend the fact that his best friend had wished for something that practically rendered him an orphan. Bucky McBadbat had been magically transported into a different town, a completely new identity and appearance. All of his history gone.

ʺDo you have any idea how awkward this is gonna be when Cosmo and Wanda find out?ʺ

ʺHmmm.ʺ

ʺBreathe. I am not gonna hit you. Geez, what were you looking for? Your fatherʼs health and happiness? Where are you going to stay, now?ʺ

ʺTurner, pardon me for interrupting your rude harassment of my son, but he is coming with me to Anti-Fairy World. He will be living in my half of the mansion. Zelos has a horrible habit of throwing inappropriate parties that involve debauchery.ʺ

ʺI am not talking to you. ʺ

ʺYou will have to. I will be with him at school, here, and wherever he decides to go. I will always find him. You should respect his decision. What you have with Anti-Cosmo is none of my business. Chester is neutral in this.ʺ

ʺAnti-Cosmo is your boss! You want us to ignore the fact that the lackeys of our nemesis are in the house and clogging the pipes?ʺ

ʺLackey? Turner, show respect. I have murdered for lesser insults.ʺ

ʺThat is my point.ʺ

ʺAm I the opposite of that adulterer that is trying to take away your godparents? The one that has been conspiring with that morally rotten rich piece of scum?ʺ

ʺWell, yeah.ʺ

ʺAnd if Chester and I were paired together based on our character, would it not mean that we are the opposite of Remy and Juandissimo? Their mirror reflections?ʺ

ʺYes.ʺ

ʺThank you. Now get over your selfish behaviour and try thinking about others, for a change.ʺ

ʺ_Will you two shut up and let me die alone?!ʺ_

ʺWhat is he doing in there?ʺ

ʺDo you want an answer from me or him?ʺ

ʺJust keep it down. Vicky is babysitting tonight and sleeping in the other room. If she hears us, not even Anti-Cosmo will save our hide.ʺ

Life and fate had an interesting way of summoning the worst possible avenue. A frantic Wanda appeared with a frightened Cosmo. He managed to utter a few words in a broken voice.

ʺTimmy, the Antis can have godkids, quick, pack up your toothbrush and letʼs blow this joint before Anti-me comes and stirs hell up! Oh, dear light, please tell me that that is Juandissimo in his Halloween costume.ʺ

ʺExcuse me?ʺ

ʺGuys, lower your voices. Vicky is gonna kill us several times.ʺ

ʺ_Why is there a live audience out there?!_ʺ

ʺTWERP!ʺ

ʺOh, great. Now what, you morons? Cosmo?ʺ

ʺQuick, we all have to hide in the bathroom!ʺ

ʺ_No!ʺ_

ʺWanda, they are everywhere!ʺ

ʺThis is beyond description! All of you, get out of here! I will have no Anti-Fairies under my nose! What have you done with Chester?! Come to think of it, why is Jorgen not coming to erase his memories?ʺ

ʺCrazy hag, stop yelling in front of the children! I have been here for only a few minutes and it seems that Cosmo has more sense than you will ever have! Chester is a godchild. Do you not see him? He just gave up his family just to allow his father to have a life. Must you insult the only thing he has left? What kind of a mother are you, you shrew? You really are the opposite of Anti-Wanda, there is not a trace of love in you. ʺ

Timmy and Chester locked eyes when they heard the door of the bedroom open. Vicky would not hesitate to blow the universe to kingdom come. Time was failing them and it was obvious that the vile teenager would cause irreparable damage. A thought formed in Timmyʼs head and he grinned to Chester. His best friend grinned back and took his hand.

ʺCombined wish?ʺ

ʺNaturally.ʺ

ʺLet hell come.ʺ

ʺWe will not let it leave.ʺ

ʺFairies and Anti-Fairies.ʺ

ʺSide by side.ʺ

* * *

><p>Regular exposure to preternatural creatures and a fair amount of apocalyptic tragicomedies were supposed to prepare him for the upcoming atrocities of life and the awful burden of responsibility. Mysteries of the cosmos had been unveiling themselves before his eyes on a regular basis, revealing secrets and knowledge few mortals had reached. Only one question remained unanswered. A household of three capable of producing five full bags of garbage. Daily. Now, something was definitely rotten in Denmark.<p>

Clouds were gathering and announcing the approaching tempest, the wind blowing somewhere around seventy kilometers per hour, scattering bits and pieces of various particles that lay on the street, branches and an occasional journal. Rolling up his sleeves, Timmy grabbed the largest plastic bag and began the ridiculous task of forcing it into the container. The bag had other ideas. Loaded as it was, a small tear appeared that threatened to enlargen itself and spill the contents. Timmy noticed it on time and applied extra force to shove it in before it had the chance to create an awkward mess. Panting and flexing his muscles, he cast a glance at his surroundings; the night would not go without a storm. Chester was staying over, Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo in tow, and Cosmo would probably be daring them to talk to his mother on the phone for a full ten seconds without experiencing a seizure. Wanda and Anti-Juandissimo had already gotten their nervous ticks synchronized at the very mention of such ridiculous ideas. Anti-Cupid was phlegmatic enough to doze off and concentrate on the colour and texture of his white wine. As long as Vicky was providing him with rich amounts of anger and fury, he would be relaxed and content.

He reached for the smaller bags and threw them in the container, sighing in relief. Lightning bolts served as a convenient source of light, transforming the black sky into a breathtaking combination of light grey and indigo. The sweet scent of ozone a harbinger of rain. He shoved his hands in his pockets and enjoyed the spectacle for a few moments. Something incongrous captured his eye. Scintillating emeralds staring at him. The black feline slowly approached, waving its puffy tail and completely indifferent to the chaos around it, as if it did not merit its attention. Strict and elegant, apathetic to the core. It sat in front of Timmy and gave its tail another wave. For a few moments they just stared at each other. Its eyes were scrutinizing him with such zest, so fixed and contemplative. Timmy smirked.

ʺGoing senile, Ace? Youʼre on the wrong address.ʺ

No reaction whatsoever. The cat lifted up a paw and indulged itself in its evening bath, licking it thoroughly. Timmy felt like a complete idiot. The aggressive wind finally made it get up and run down the street. He shrugged his shoulders.

ʺMy mistake.ʺ

ʺ_Tua maxima culpa, _Timothy.ʺ

Son of a gun, he should have let Dad take out the trash. Well, there were several options. One, he could scream bloody murder and alarm the entire house of danger; and probably get himself massacred in the whole process. The second solution that had presented itself involved the application of false bravado and an idiotic attempt at heroism. Not really the ideal choice. Especially when one finds himself alone at night in the company of a psychopath. Third, well, he didnʼt have much time to come up with something useful. The fact that Anti-Cosmo had grabbed a fistful of his hair from behind and pressed the sharp onyx star on his throat during his contemplation of the second option had proven itself to be quite distracting.

ʺLetʼs take a little walk, shall we?ʺ

ʺLetʼs not and say we did.ʺ

ʺYou really do have the cognitive capacities of an immature toddler; I suggest you start walking. I donʼt want Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo to see me.ʺ

ʺOh, yeah, that would be horrible. Sorry for the inconvenience. I am not familiar with the whole hostage protocol.ʺ

ʺWhere do your suicidal tendencies stem from? Your pathetic remarks are a nuisance at best. The damage will reflect itself on your account.ʺ

ʺCanʼt this wait? The guys are really having fun upstairs and I am not in the mood for this cliché.ʺ

ʺTimothy, I am placing my reputation on the guillotine with this. I made a solemn oath to Anti-Juandissimo that I would refrain from operating in the vicinity of his godchild. I will not let anyone contest my authority because of your inability to do as you are told. Now, be a good little boy and follow my orders.ʺ

ʺAce, Iʼll make you a deal. We pretend this never happened, I donʼt say anything to Anti-Juandissimo, Iʼm not gonna tell my godparents and we can continue our talk some other day when Chester is not around. No excuses, no strings attached. Now let me go.ʺ

ʺDo my senses deceive me? Little Timothy Tiberius dictating the terms and conditions to the sovereign of all that is dark and malicious? Interesting. Have it your way, nephew dearest.ʺ

ʺSay what?ʺ

ʺRun along, shoo, youʼll contract a cold in this wind.ʺ

ʺOk, now you are really scaring me.ʺ

Timmy felt his hair being released and he recoiled from the preternatural creature of questionable mental sanity. Anti-Cosmo was floating with his legs crossed and his hands folded over his chest, a bored expression firmly plastered and adjusted. The lad made a wary pace in the opposite direction, his eyes reluctant to lose sight of the potentially dangerous wand. The Anti-Fairy chuckled and took off his monocle to polish it.

ʺYou are making progress, Timothy. It has been a while. I find myself incapable of grasping the concept of you reaching your teenage years. Where is that little golden hero that used to amuse me?ʺ

ʺHe grew a brain. Do I have your word that you will respect our agreement?ʺ

ʺI see my influence and efforts are functioning.ʺ

ʺAce, focus.ʺ

ʺI hereby declare that your prior statement regarding our conversation shall bear henceforth the significance of a binding magical oral contract, entered into without coercion and fully accepted. There, child.ʺ

Timmy sighed and directed himself to the safety of his lawn.

ʺTimothy?ʺ

ʺGoodness, go away.ʺ

ʺMind your step.ʺ

His heart stopped. He looked down and saw a circle of shadows reaching from the ground. Incapable of controlling his ire, he lashed out with impunity.

ʺYou snake unworthy of oxygen! What is this?ʺ

ʺOur agreement. We continue our conversation another day when Anti-Juandissimoʼs godchild is not in our proximity. Easily arranged, I am taking us to a different time zone.ʺ

ʺIʼll…ʺ

ʺNot a word to Anti-Juandissimo or your godparents.ʺ

ʺBut…ʺ

ʺNo excuses, no strings attached.ʺ

ʺBut…ʺ

ʺWhen you come back, we pretend this never happened.ʺ

ʺNo.ʺ

ʺIt was your idea. You made me enforce it.ʺ

ʺHow…damn it!ʺ

ʺLoopholes.ʺ

A claw grabbed him by the leg and pulled him into the dark abyss that formed around him. He fell through the cold energy, a maelstrom forming around him and creating nauseating images. He landed on the soft grass of an unknown realm, dizzy and seriously on the verge of blowing something to dear hell. His breathing was shallow and vision unfocused. The sting of humiliation only increased when he heard the sound of tea being served and poured into a cup.

ʺReady to cooperate?ʺ

ʺYou are so dead! I am gonna use your blue skin as wallpaper and your wings as a good luck charm!ʺ

ʺOh, the chip of the old block.ʺ

ʺWhat the hell do you want?ʺ

ʺI want to save your miserable life, you juvenile delinquent.ʺ

ʺMy, how generous.ʺ

ʺWhy am I experiencing flashbacks all of a sudden?ʺ

ʺOld age getting to you.ʺ

ʺOh, how majestic. Tell me, boy, any purple sparks lately? ʺ

ʺ…Come again?ʺ

ʺYou know what I am talking about.ʺ

ʺNo. I have no clue.ʺ

ʺWe can always play my favourite game of Truth or Scare.ʺ

ʺI am never taking the garbage out again.ʺ

ʺHave you been wielding Poofʼs magic? Donʼt lie to me, witchling.ʺ

ʺNo.ʺ

ʺWrong answer. Liar, liar.ʺ

Blue flames engulfing everything around him. Shades of cobalt and indigo licking his skin and threatening to coagulate his fragile cells. Timmy paled and screamed until his lungs contracted to tiny bits of flesh, his heart precariously approaching the point of no return, his knees trembling. His inner voice was telling him something about sustaining burns. Excruciating pain…no. Something was not right. Anti-Cosmo was rolling on the ground with laughter.

ʺYou fell for it! You should have seen that look! Oh, I needed that.ʺ

ʺThey donʼt burn.ʺ

ʺYour powers of inference amaze me every time. Start talking. I can make them burn for real if you decide to give me fiction.ʺ

ʺAlright, I confess! It happened some days before Chester got his godparents. I was talking to Poof and it just happened. I…I thought it was him. It has to be him! Where did you get that information?! Nobody knows it.ʺ

ʺYou can thank the heavens for it. Jorgen would not hesitate to get rid of you. So much for your idealism.ʺ

ʺWhat?!ʺ

ʺYou have a few options. It is crucial that you weigh your choices wisely and without that annoying arrogant approach to serious matters of life and death. Donʼt flatter your ego, the world is not revolving around your holier-than-thou frame of mind. No deus ex machina, no prophecies, no Fairies, no Jorgen, no luck, no nonsense! I want you to confirm my reasons to think highly of you, I wish to see the manifestation of that latent genius I respect, I want to speak to your mature self, the one that was capable of motivating a legion of worthless Fairies and leading them to victory, the one that knows better than to pull the devil by the tail.ʺ

ʺEasy on the brandy.ʺ

ʺOh, bloody hell, Timothy. Stop pretending.ʺ

ʺWhat will happen then? The last piece of the puzzle placed and the world will stop being a safe place. My innocence shot down. I have everything to lose. Believe me, if it were not for my godparents, I would gladly come with you. You were giving me an eternity. Security, knowledge, power, but then what? Universal domination, come on. Who needs that? I suggest you go and do something productive with your time. Open up a chain of evil nightclubs. Profit guaranteed.ʺ

ʺEasy on those hallucinogenic products.ʺ

ʺSee, we are almost one and the same. Almost, donʼt get your hopes high. Your detailed and elaborate and my terse and concise. I am dancing between darkness and light, I was born on an equinox. I have no place. I am not as pure as Chester, I am not as rotten as you. No hard feelings. Go and get yourself a kid that will make you proud. I am not the right choice for you, Ace.ʺ

ʺYou are perfect.ʺ

ʺFine, your funeral.ʺ

ʺTimothy, come home with me.ʺ

ʺI canʼt betray Cosmo and Wanda.ʺ

ʺWhat will you do when your innocence dies alone and ashamed?ʺ

ʺBury it.ʺ

ʺMy castle is always open for you.ʺ

ʺLook at us, two idiots in the middle of nowhere. Remember when we met?ʺ

ʺOur hero. Our big stupid _anti-hero._ʺ

ʺI will stay with them for now. After that I donʼt know. If Jorgen and the Council decide that I am to die, then let it stay forever burned in their record. Poof is my familiar and he will slaughter them for it; he is my legacy, I gave my contribution to the world by doing the unthinkable, I created a Fairy and became the pariah of Fairy World because I loved too much.ʺ

ʺHold still, you sentimental fool.ʺ

Before Timmy could react, Anti-Cosmo grabbed his arm and pierced his skin with the onyx star. Glacial rays of indigo energy emerged and fused with his flesh, flowing into his blood.

ʺOuch, what is wrong with you, you jerk?!ʺ

ʺContinue…the more fury you give, the better.ʺ

ʺWhat?ʺ

ʺYou formed a link with Poof through love and care. You will form it with me through rage.ʺ

ʺAre you insane?!ʺ

ʺYes. I am not letting you waste yourself because of love. I am neutralising the current effect of Fairy magic and making it indetectable should they decide to search for its imprint. It will remain intact and Poof will still bear the title of your relation by magic. However, Anti-Fairy magic will fuse with it eventually and you will become a magic wielder _sui generis_. A hybrid. Rare, but not impossible to create. If something goes wrong, you march to my domain. You will thank me when you come of age.ʺ

ʺNo. This was not my choice.ʺ

ʺNot my problem, you wonʼt remember this when you come home. We pretend it never happened.ʺ

* * *

><p><strong>Autor: Oh, my goodness, this almost drained me dry. Well, darling readers, here it is. This story is going to be huge and I can guarantee that I will do my best to update as soon as possible. Now, there is someone here with me. Alright, Anti-Cosmo, will you do the honours?<strong>

**Anti-Cosmo: How dare you entertain such blasphemous thoughts?! Evil geniuses do not beg for reviews! **

**Author: Fine! I will do all the work and you continue sitting on your aristocratic behind. I do not fall into your exclusive club and can go on and grovel all I want for reviews.**

**Anti-Cosmo: What a waste of mental energy. Foolish child. My generous offer for the position of evil sidekick still stands if you decide to make yourself useful. I need someone to take care of the logistics when I take all the world leaders hostage.**

**Author: Sounds like a living.**


	3. Consolidation

Simultaneous expansion and restriction, playful oscillations and sudden stillness, ridiculous music mixing with solemn memories, contradictions galore, golden particles appearing at random, images of his beloved family surrounded by tiny stars and cupcakes, mismatched colours intertwined, representing a lovely helix of condensed emotions, the most prominent hues being pink, blue and purple; only a daft philosopher would deign to provide an ontological analysis of the frivolous universe that reigned in Cosmo's chaotic albeit beguiling mind.

Whenever Cosmo tried to conjure a useful idea, an interesting process would take place in a remote corner of his head. A tiny verdant spark would form in the middle a complex labyrinth of repressed thoughts, and it would strive to fight its way to the exit. Unsuccesfully, of course, but one simply had to admire the determination. The poor spark would eventually end up suffocated by a myriad of other thoughts, useless associations, sounds and scents. It made perfect sense, for Cosmo was partially an incarnation of the cosmos itself. Moreover, he represented mindless chaos, eternal entropy, unbridled energy. His gloomy counterpart, Anti-Cosmo, was the other half of the same coin, the personification of organized chaos and creative destruction, planned discord and calculated mania.

And yet, Cosmo was engrossed in a very interesting activity that evening. It involved an infernal power consuming contraption, various tools of arcane origins, dangerously connected wires and the presence of a nickel that went under the name of Philip (no matter the fact that Cosmo claimed that the little coin had a female nature). Enthusiasm and savage joy had taken over Cosmo, and, as he fiddled with the apparatus, he allowed himself the liberty of making a cackle worthy of his doppelgänger, manic and high-pitched, deeply disturbing. Truth be told, his actions did not have a defined order. He kept on feeding the mechanical monstrosity with potent injections of magic, causing it to emit unearthly grunts and the loud sound of air movement. Continuous roars and vibrations assured him that he was going in the right direction with his task and the prospect of success piqued his curiosity. Cosmo cast a glance in the direction oh his favourite coin.

"Philip, we're having a breakthrough! Place your goggles on, this is gonna get nasty. Wish me luck, babe, I'm about to tread where no idiot has ever dared to go…"

Oddly enough, Philip chose to remain indifferent. Fortunately, Cosmo was not affected by his tiny companion's silence and he continued with his work, preparing a newly summoned mass of energy and whispering instructions to the writhing slithers of golden light. He inserted the orb in the mysterious machine and closed the lid. As soon as the deed was done, steam began to exit from the tiny pores of the metallic construction, announcing the danger of an impending explosion, but the electric device changed its mind at the last moment. Instead, it made a proud roar and began to race around the room, zooming and zigzagging, changing its course, causing a general disturbance in the usual design of the room's décor, knocking off every object in its way, and even accidentaly hitting Cosmo. The Fairy didn't seem displeased much with the behaviour of his newly mended gadget.

"Ohohohoho…it lives, it lives, finally, after all my hard work! Muahahahahahah!"

In the fashion of those truly anticlimactic change of events, Wanda burst through the door, wearing a satin pink robe with the sash firmly tied in a bow, her fuchsia curls ligthly falling down her back and indicating that she was far too tired to position them in their usual swirl. She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at the mind-numbing scene and she crossed her hands over her chest.

"Cosmo, are you done fixing the vacuum cleaner, already? "

"It's alive and kicking! Literally. I even have the missing teeth to prove it. Philip and I are the greatest engineers ever to malpractice, ain't that right, chum?"

"What the heck have you done with our bedroom? And what is that green substance doing on the ceiling?"

"Horror movie props I found on the Internet, fifty percent off, and I also got this neat air freshener for free. Come here, my love, it's your favourite scent!"

He fiddled with the tiny spray for a few seconds before releasing a pink aerosol haze, allowing the rosy scent to permeate their nuptial room. Reluctantly, Wanda inhaled and found that it was rather soothing, alarmingly so, which led her to believe that Cosmo was also using a tranquilizing spell in order to calm her down, an unusually perfidious move from his part, but fueled with the will to act in her best interest. She gave him a light smack in order to make it obvious that she saw through his deception.

"Hmpf, is that supposed to make me less angry about this mess?"

"Is it working?"

"Partially…oh, goodness, it's Thursday tomorrow…my nerves are already in overdrive. I must have been out of my mind when I allowed Timmy to invite Trixie for a "movie night" this evening. It is already half past eleven _post_ _meridium_ and she is inevitably going to stay for the night."

"So?"

"Tomorrow is Thursday! Thursday! Anti-Juandissimo drives Timmy and Chester to school on Thursdays! What are we going to do with Trixie?! How is she going to get dropped off at school?! We can't just let her go with them, the risk is too damn high, she can't go anywhere near the Antis. I have nothing against Anti-Juan, he is surprisingly level-headed and composed for an Anti-Fairy, but that bastard Anti-Cupid just keeps on waiting for a chance when nobody is looking so he can cause trouble! Believe it or not, we can't keep on placating his sick needs for dark emotions with Vicky's storage of teenage rage, even she can't cater to-"

"Well, duh, we can teleport Trixie, there is no problem there. As soon a she wakes up, we cast a few spells, alternate her memories and she'll find herself at school thinking that she came there with her limousine, and, come on, good old Icky Vicky has enough madness to make Anti-Cupid choke to death. A few minutes of exposure to her aura and he just naps through the day like a happy kitten. And he's not that bad…remember the impromptu concert we had a month ago? Now that was positively grand, I even filmed all your shocked expressions."

"Timmy will get offended if we do that without his knowledge and permission. And bravo for being a complete idiot and for ignoring the fact thar the whole concert issue involved the kidnapping of the performers, conjuring a platform in the middle of nowhere, endless amounts of chocolate sundaes and the inexplicable presence of Abraham Lincoln's ghost in a Hawaii shirt and flip-flops, a considerable amount of memory spells when the whole fiasco was over, not to mention the fact that the genre was metal and that my tympanum went to hell during it, and on top of everything Mama Cosma was present and she proudly announced that she had the band's name tattooed in the place where the sun doesn't shine so often."

"Yeah…the face you made when we all found out about that particular detail was priceless. I've placed all photographs of your mortified expressions in my wallet, look, how beautifully crazy you are in this one. Oh, my lovely babe, you're the prettiest girl in Fairy World. Awww, don't pout, my naggy nag, it's alright. The kids wished for a live version of their favourite songs, Wanda…we can't say "no" to an ordinary wish, and Anti-Juan wasn't happy about granting it either, but, truth be told, Timmy and Chester loved the spectacle. The Antis will pick up the children in the morning, take them to class and there is absolutely nothing that can go wrong…"

Upon hearing that ancient phrase of reassurance that almost inevitably lead to catastrophes, Wanda's eye twitched and her perpetually worried mind began to schematize all the possible outcomes and the available remedies to mend the upcoming damage. She floated over to the king-sized four-poster bed and sat on the edge, fidgeting and rocking back and forth, the enchantment that had temporarily eased her senses evaporating into oblivion and morbid thoughts had once again invaded her mental fortress. Timmy had been acting extremely off in the past few months, she had definitely noticed that. It took a certain dose of finesse to discern the minute albeit rapid changes in his demeanour, the gestures that betrayed his inner thoughts, the extravagant wishes he had been making, almost inevitably coupled with a veil of malice and the quest for revenge.

There had been specific moments when he was particularly irritable and volatile, almost cantankerous in his behaviour, extremely private and only willing to exchange his secrets with Poof. In point of fact, there were evenings when he would sit on the windowsill with Poof cradled in his arms, silent whispers gracing the atmosphere, barely audible to those that were not welcome to the godbrothers' moments of affectionate intimacy. It should be noted that Poof had gained the ability to speak in the middle of April, when he was approximately one year old; his appearance had already begun to develop into that of a regular Fairy, his torso and limbs fully formed and making him resemble a young boy. Generally, Poof already possessed the handsome facial structure of his father, but his lilac eyes harboured the mature and cautious intelligence of his mother, soft and rich violet curls had grown on his head, his voice unusually deep and husky, mirroring and resembling the dark timbre of his counterpart's speech, but still retaining a childish streak in it.

As for the presence of the Anti-Fairies(and by this we primarily mean Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo, for their company had become a routine), Wanda had shown her skills of diplomacy and she and Anti-Juandissimo had set a daily schedule regarding the custody of both Chester and Timmy, in light of the fact that the two human boys were nigh inseparable friends and that the severance of their daily contact was out of the question, the past conflicts and differences between Fairies and Anti-Fairies notwithstanding. However, the timetable had to be followed piously and each and every minute had to be filled as planned. It had been four months since the day Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo became Chester's godparents in February.

Alas, the precarious years of early adolescence often refuse to tolerate fixed rules and rigid guidelines, and the powerful combined wishes of Chester and Timmy often lead to the breach of every single regulation their godparents would implement. Of course, the boys had Anti-Cupid as their accomplice in mischief, and it was a well known fact that the champion of emulation and zeal would never hesitate to create the nectar of discord for the pleasure of the audience. For instance, he had once utilized his powers of empathy to manipulate Vicky's reservoire of contempt and misanthropy, abusing the malleable nature of human emotions ever so subtly and masterfully, and he had asked the boys in which direction he should project Vicky's wrath. Predictably, Chester and Timmy had agreed that Anti-Cupid should release Vicky's latent murderous instincts at the expense of poor Francis. Macabre scenes had ensued when the usually quiet suburbian neighbourhood began to echo with the roar of a chainsaw and Francis's high-pitched screams. Francis had been running from the maniacal Vicky, confessing his remorse for all the bullying he had done and begging the heavens to have mercy on him, yelling for the police to come and rescue him. Fortunately, Anti-Juandissimo and Wanda had been present to impede the impending catastrophe.

Anti-Cupid would amuse the boys with the tales of his past, the olden days when he had been known and venerated as the god "Zelos", the illustruous and winged permanent member of the royal retinue of Zeus himself, bearing the obligation of residing under Zeus's roof and serving him at all times. Known throughout the Ancient World as the dynamo of ambition and jealousy, Zelos had often been relishing in petty gossip and revealing the embarassing secrets of each and every deity with impunity, igniting envy in the spirits of all living creatures, urging them to engage in conflict; a revealed secret here, a lie there, an accidental collision at the wrong place at the wrong time, and a gorgeous amalgamation of vehemence and ferocity would be stirred in the forgotten penumbral locations of the anima, thus thrived the god of zeal, forever feeding off the rotten appendages of humanity's desire.

Wanda was brought back from her contemplation as she felt a pleasant friction caressing her scalp, realising that Cosmo had sneaked from behind and began to brush her hair lovingly, paying due attention to each lock, careful not to pull at the occasional knot, kissing the tip of each tress.

"Why don't you let it flow as you did when we were young? It had more freedom and looked better in the wind."

"It gets in the way…a little to the left, right there…hmmmm, that's nice."

"Anything for you. Just relax, Wanda…look, I have a present for you."

Serenity fell in tiny snowflakes over her troubled heart, cooling and freezing all apprehension, creating a cloak of security and the vision of tranquility. She turned around to face her spouse, a ghost of a smile on her face as she met the tepid gaze of his virescent eyes, their gentle glow reminding her of the sunlit grass in Spring. Cosmo winked at her and summoned a small whirwind of roseate smoke above their heads, allowing it to condense and transform into a flower. He reached for it and held it for Wanda to see, enjoying her reaction when she recognized the type.

"An orchid of the_ Vanda _genus! Oh, goodness, Cosmo! How beautiful!"

Before Cosmo could defend himself, his wife pulled him by his tie and kissed him ardently, effectively disarming him with the gentle strokes of her fingers on his neck. He reciprocated readily, his arms feverishly seeking to entwine her waist and pull her closer. He teased her with playful bites and butterfly kisses, smirking as she squealed with joy. Before they proceeded with their frolics, Cosmo used a spell to secure the lock of the bedroom door.

"Guess what, babe? I _always _lock the door, even I know that I have to remember that. Imagine the catastrophe and awkward trauma if Poof were to fly in. What kind of an idiot fails to take precautionary measures with these things?"

* * *

><p>The blazing Californian sun did its best to transform the busy Dimmsdale streets and boulevards into a blazing inferno, the beginning of June marking the approaching end of the school year. A vehicle of otherwordly origin was parked in front of the Turner house, the model colloquially known as a Doom Rover, an impressive and powerful monstrosity with a black metallic colour, bulletproof, impervious to all forms of magic, with giant tires specifically designed to conquer impossible terrains, a trunk that expanded according to the user's needs, the glass windows darkened and protecting from the curious gaze of unwanted spectators (specifically, Dinkleberg had been staring from afar, envy eating him from the inside). The interior was equally pleasing to the eye, black leather seats and additional plush cushions, the dashboard belonging to a technological era that defied categorization, high quality stereo and numerous wonders that could keep Chester's curiosity satisfied.<p>

Operating under pseudonyms and donning a normal human form when the circumstances demanded it, our two Anti-Fairies had once again found themselves in the rather adorable role of "babysitters". The air conditioner was diligent in its duties, reducing the inner temperature to twenty degrees Celsius. Anti-Juandissimo sat at the steering wheel, deadpan, Anti-Cupid was sipping his tenth cup of wine and little Chester was amusing himself with the video console in the spacious back seat. If one were to juxtapose the physical appearance of Anti-Juandissimo's human disguise with the general exterior of his Fairy counterpart, one would immediately proclaim them twins. His sleeves were rolled up and they revealed strong arms and olive skin, his black shirt did little to conceal the muscles underneath, but a black summer scarf was tied around the man's neck. A careful eye would discern the crucial differences between the two: Anti-Juandissimo did not possess Juandissimo's seductive charisma, quite the contrary, he gave away the impression of being surrounded by a glacial shield, cold, uninviting, hostile to strangers, tense as a sentinel suffering from sleep deprivation. Juandissimo's flaming gaze and audacity were nowhere to be found, for Anti-Juandissimo was the epitome of self-effacement and rigid principles, a bearer of traits that earned him the cognomen of "The Ascetic" in Anti-Fairy World.

Vibrant violet eyes peered over the rim of a quite expensive brand of sunglasses. The target and object of focus of Anti-Juandissimo's strict amethyst gaze was, of course, a slightly psychotic red-eyed empath. Lounging in the passenger's seat and admiring his bejewelled cup adoringly, Anti-Cupid kept on ignoring Anti-Juandissimo's warnings and threats. One must never forget the importance of alcohol abstinence in the presence of children; not only did Anti-Cupid disregard this theory, but he had decided to pulverize it altogether. He had absolutely no shame whatsoever when it came to certain rules of decorum, often declaring that he himself had taught Dionysus the secrets of viticulture and that the absence of wine could be detrimental to a god's digestive system.

Sporting an elegant black tuxedo and long black trousers, a pearly white shirt, golden cufflinks and an ebony bow tie, the fully grown version of the god appeared as if he had just come from the opera. Gleaming red eyes betrayed the diabolical nature of the man, his bang swirled backwards into a pointy curl. Eventhough Zelos was Cupid's distant cousin, his human form made him look like the ideal doppelgänger of the God of Love.

Chester had easily picked up Anti-Cupid's love for word games, and he had chosen the appropriate names his godparents could use when they had to pretend to be human. For Anti-Juandissimo, he had chosen the name "Antonio Murciélago", the surname being the Spanish word for "bat", as a reference to Chester's surname "McBadbat". The interpretation of Chester's surname had often been thought to represent the lack of the ability to use a baseball bat, but a second analysis could point to the fact that it referred to the flying nocturnal rodent, and it was a perfect fit for a godchild of an Anti-Fairy. As for Anti-Cupid, Chester had combined both fiction and reality, and opted for the official name of "Zelos Theodorakis", which contained both Anti-Cupid's original name and a reference to his godlike heritage.

Four months had passed since the day Chester received his Anti-Fairies, four paradisiacal months filled to the brim with parental love and tender hugs, vigilant care, jocular riddles and levitating toys. Accomodation in his godparents' mansion in Anti-Fairy World had demanded a certain amount of adjustment from Chester's part, as it was rather difficullt to accept such a drastic change. Settled at the far end of the Anti-Fairy domain, at the border of the Onyx Forest (a remote woodland part of Anti-Fairy World where the crimson sky once again assumed its natural blue colour, allowing Chester to be exposed to normal surroundings) and in the vicinity of the Fathomless Lakes, the mansion was constructed to resemble the Queen Anne style, with many additional details placed by the hedonistic Anti-Cupid. Ornamented oriel windows and tall arches were in accordance with his taste, high reliefs and various sculptures, secret passageways and underground tunnels, along with a neverending wine cellar that stretched on for kilometers, slowly passing into the deep catacombs.

The gardens around the mansion could be described as the product of an insane horticulturist that had a serious condition of _horror vacui_. Hortensia shrubs and magnolia trees, elaborate labyrinths of cypress trees, statuettes, costly fountains, hyacinth and amaranth flowers, gazebos and benches that offered rest and solace to the wandering visitor. Chester's quarters were located in Anti-Juandissimo's half of the mansion and they were fashioned as Chester wished for them to be. Altruistic and benign as he was, Chester had brought the kittens he had been taking care of during his days of living on Earth, making them his official pets and giving them a happy and carefree life. The felines would often get their little claws on Anti-Cupid's expensive ottoman.

Chester's blonde hair had grown longer and he had tied it at the back of his head, the same way Anti-Juandissimo and Juandissimo kept their hair. The trademark dark green colour of his jackets was still present, but the quality of the clothes improved greatly, and Chester was often seen wearing a bottle green denim jacket and black trousers, the colour of his shirts depending on his mood and fluctuating from navy blue to black. As they waited for Timmy to finally come to the car, Chester yawned in annoyance and leaned over to the front seats. Anti-Cupid tilted his head to the side and smiled at his godchild. He raised his finger and tapped the tip of Chester's nose as if he were a baby.

"Jeez, what's taking so long? It's half past seven! Anti-Cupid, can you sense what's happening in the house?"

For a second, Anti-Cupid closed his eyes in contemplation and he reopened them as soon as he picked up the right frequency of emotional waves.

"Someone's with him…a daffy lass, by the look of it. Oh, my, what a morcel: hysteria, fear of exposure, morbid exhilaration and joy mixed in it, too sweet, but also a bit prickly, what a jumpy little creature, a spoiled hypocrite with a shaky moral system, and lies, lies, lies, but there is a hint of kindness, let us ignore that and focus on the sick psyche that resides beneath the pretty icing…we're about to have a real bubble, I can tell you that. "

"Why?"

"If me senses aren't telling porkies, it seems that the girl is Trixie Tang. When did she become mates with Turner?"

"Trixie?! _The Trixie?!_ What is she doing at his house? Oh, no. Don't tell me they're doing all the lovey-dovey romantic nonsense!"

"Not to worry, Turner ain't got the guts, and the bird is far too self-absorbed to notice his lovesick stares. But an interesting blend of bile is boiling in good old Tim's mind, I wonder what's gotten in there. Somehow it seems very familiar...where have I tasted that madness before? Oh, this is so frustrating! I hate it when I can't guess it right! Something is blocking me from reading his emotions properly, I get a tiny glimpse of that odd streak and then the entire flavour vanishes!"

Anti-Cupid's ludicrous monologue was cut short by the sudden sound of the vehicle door being yanked open, the abruptness of the act making Anti-Cupid flinch and spill wine all over his tuxedo. Two frantic adolescents ushered themselves rather unceremoniously on the back seat of the car, fully aware that they would be late for class. Timmy and Trixie endeavoured to position themselves next to Chester, Trixie's hat getting crooked in the process, her heavy schoolbag held by one strap and, at a certain angle, the partially closed zipper collapsed under the weight of the books, causing the contents of the bag to fall helter-skelter all over the place. To sum up, it took ten seconds to vanquish the prim and proper order that reigned in Anti-Juandissimo's car and replace it with dire mayhem that consisted of random accessories scattered on the seat, notebooks, a pink diary, textbooks, tiny packages of mint-flavoured chewing gum, mascara, violet bows and a comic book. The adult men shifted in their front seats so they could turn around and inspect the damage, shock and disbelief all over their face. The awkward silence was broken with Chester's matter-of-fact comment:

"Epic fail, Trix."

Anti-Juandissimo slit his eyes at Timmy, icy anger concentrated in his stare. Trixie made a sheepish grin and shrugged.

"Turner, what is the meaning of this? I do not remember registering myself as a public transportation officer, nor did I grant you permission to bring starngers in our midst, and the way you are abusing my son's generosity and clemency is really starting to get on my last nerve. And you, little girl, if you are already running around pretending to be a boy, try to tuck your hair properly in that cap and erase those sparkling pink ornaments on your backpack that spell "property of Patricia Tang", it may cause confusion."

Timmy opened his mouth to justify himself, but Trixie spoke first.

"Er…thanks for pointing it out, sir. On a side note, you got some nice piece of machinery here, how totally radical! Like, how fast does this wicked puppy go? Does it use Diesel? And I love those shades and outfits, God, you two look like from the Matrix! Whoa, do I smell wine? Let me guess, it's a rosé, I know I'm right. So, any good music in the CD player? I could totally use some Cindy Laupner right now, hope you don't mind, it just fits the sunny weather so perfectly! Don't worry about the mess, Timmy will put my stuff back in the bag, I mean, it's like totally his fault we're late in the first place and he hid my smartphone 'cause I stole his action figure, and…"

It didn't take the Anti-Fairies long to register that they had been forced to endure the presence of a young chatterbox, their faces going blank as it became obvious that she had no intention of leaving, no plan of ceasing with her recounting of some insignificant event at the mall and they paled when she started to ask them questions about the car's carburetor. Anti-Cupid and Anti-Juandissimo locked eyes with each other.

"For evil's sake, she is never going to shut up."

"May the gods help us."

* * *

><p>Geraldine Waxelplax, the infamous headmistress of Dimmsdale elementary school, was universally known as a highly sceptical woman. Practicality and temperance represented the main virtues she had always wished for her students to attain in the course of their education, along with the sense of the importance of choosing an appropriate career that would secure stability and a decent income. Fantasy and imagination were labeled as a nuisance and a useless distraction from a person's daily duties. Naturally, all of the aforementioned principles were nothing more but elaborate fabrications she had instilled in her own mind to forget about her love and admiration for Denzel Crocker, a mere way of repressing her own desire for the wild side of life.<p>

The confession she had received in February had changed her outlook on her relationship with the cantankerous professor Crocker, her affection returned once more when he declared that Fairies were no longer his center of focus. The following weeks had been marked with their attempts at reconciliation, tender promises and mute cries, his hand searching for her hand in the quiet darkness of her room. However, there were occasions when she would catch a glimpse of her lover reading odd letters, sometimes he would write frantically in the middle of the night, but she had dismissed the notion of something being wrong. On the whole, the newly forged link had a good influence on their lives, eventhough they kept their romance a secret from the rest of the school staff.

Still, true to her immutable habit of questioning the supposedly good intentions of her pupils, she had found herself once again in the position of the grand inquisitor. Headmistress Waxelplax was sitting in her finely furnished office, eyeing the lad that sat on the other side of her desk. The boy had his hands folded neatly, his posture commanding respect and his countenance as indifferent as it could get, his green eyes concealing the acerbic soul that lied within. Remington Buxaplenty had found himself in a precarious situation regarding his finances, considering the fact that his parents had revoked his allowance priviledges and made him incapable of continuing to bribe Shallowgrave at the F.U.N. Academy.

Numerous reasons lay behind the decisions of Remy's father that finally made him wring the faucet and prevent Remy from abusing their wealth, but mostly it had been made so Remy would stop changing his living conditions at the dire military academy. As was expected, Remington refused to make peace with his fate and had decided to change the events by transferring himself back to his old elementary school without the knowledge of his parents. Remy cleared his throat and resumed the recitation of his well memorised speech that was specifically created to deceive the headmistress.

"Madam, I could not bear the regime anymore and my father had decided that this was indeed a better environment for me and my education, as it offers a more friendly approach to children and promotes solidarity. So, I am officially returning for the semester in September. I have brought the transcriptions of my grades at the F.U.N. Academy and a report of my behaviour. All should be in order."

"Quite…and your father…why haven't I seen your father during your previous school years? Before you left, I mean."

"Travelling abroad, busy timetable, full schedule. Mother would come, though. I believe that her presence was recorded on each PTA meeting. My…my father should be arriving shortly to sign the inscription documents and I apologize in advance for the wait."

"You seem a bit nervous, Remington."

"I am simply excited because I am returning here…you know, nostalgia, old friends and that sort of thing."

"I suppose. Does your father come in late with every one of his appointments? We have been sitting here for almost an hour."

"Depends on the circumstances."

Remy cursed internally at his predicament. True, he could have simply wished for Juandissimo to magically fix the financial problem and to teleport him from the military academy to a proper school, but clever little Remy knew the repercussions of such an act, for his very status of a godchild was in peril and the effect of his wishes would be erased should he lose Juandissimo as a godparent. Let us not forget that Remy had already been excluded from the magical world in the past and that his miraculous return to the godparenting system was the result of Juandissimo's efforts.

During his sojourn on a deserted island, Remington had been hit on the head with a violet coconut, which happened to be Juandissimo in disguise, which lead to the recreation of his memories of the existence of Fairies. Unfortunately, Jorgen had agreed to the arrangement of restoring Remy's position as a godchild under the condition that Remy endures Juandissimo's cooking escapades. It was certainly not pleasurable for Remy's refined palate, considering the fact that his godfather barely knew how to fry an egg without burning it to cinders. However, the entire ordeal had a heartwarming by-product: casting aside his pride, Remy had taken upon himself the task of giving Juandissimo instructions in the kitchen and painstakingly going through each recipe until Juandissimo made a satisfactory dish. Nevertheless, Juandissimo could only perform well under Remy's strict supervision and the absence of his godson's commands would cause Juandissimo's romantic mind to wander aimlessly and ignore the fire on the stove, daydreaming incessantly and causing the kitchen to explode several times.

Still, the violet-eyed Fairy harboured great affection for his lonesome godson. Jorgen's orders and plots notwithstanding, it was Juandissimo himself that had felt the painful pang in his heart at the sight of Remy's forlorness, and the Hispanic Fairy had rejected the very foundation of "Da Rules" in order to give Remy his memories and re-establish their bond. Accordingly, Juandissimo strived to do his best to improve his skills as a cook and gladly obeyed Remy in all his requests, determined to bring happiness to the boy's life. One Friday evening, when Remy had been sitting dejectedly on a bar stool in the kitchenette of his private appartments in his countryside manor and refusing to participate in Juandissimo's culinary adventures, Juandissimo had playfully sprinkled flour all over his godson's head in order to gain his attention.

The blonde little snob had not been particularly impressed, but his irritation had reached a higher level when Juandissimo kept on persisting in the game. A jocular battle had ensued with them throwing flour and eggs at each other, creating an impossible mess, recklessly spoiling and wasting the ingredients for pancakes, but the desired effect had been produced: Remy had been laughing and enjoying himself, momentarily forgetting the cold hearts of his parents, forgetting Jorgen's threats and ultimatums, forgetting Timmy Turner, forgetting everything and only living in the given moment of temporary serenity.

Remy had created a theory that, in order to keep the effect of Juandissimo's actions for a long period of time, he would have to waltz his way around the rules and cease making wishes _per se_, but making requests, demands, asking for favours, avoiding the phrase "I wish" at all costs. The result of his "requests" would never be erased by Jorgen and Juandissimo could act freely with his magic without jeopardizing Remy's situation. Remington's current plot was no different, as he had asked Juandissimo to disguise himself as his father and forge his signature on the school inscription papers, after which they would proceed with Juandissimo's mission of hacking the Buxaplenty bank accounts and supply Remy with sufficient cash.

It was only then that the office door opened and the long-awaited visitor entered. Remy's heart skipped a beat or two as he saw that Juandissimo hadn't copied the physical appearance of his father, but had conjured a human version of his original outward appearance, not even deigning to conceal his unnatural violet irises and still wearing nauseatingly tight clothes. Remy shuddered in terror at the Fairy's reckless stupidity, fearing that all was lost. Juandissimo's human form proudly pranced to the desk and ploped on a free chair, producing a rose out of nowhere and handing it to the unimpressed headmistress. Certain questions were bound to pop up in Remy's mind. For instance: was it possible for Juandissimo's attention span to get any shorter? Was it possible for his godparent to find the necessary five seconds to forge a few relevant signatures without having to seek the company of potential lovers? Earnestly and innocently, Juandissimo kept on grinning at the red-haired woman that sat across the office desk, undeterred by her apparent (and surprisingly odd) indifference to his compliments. Despite the circumstances in which Remy had found himself, the woman's cold behaviour and inability to react to his godparent's charms caught his interest. He had wondered if she had already found a significant other.

Surprisingly, the session ended well and all was arranged for Remy's advent in September. As soon as both godfather and godson exited the office, Juandissimo teleported them back to Remy's mansion. Still furious, Remy gazed up at his godfather that had once again returned to his smaller Fairy shape.

"Must you flirt with everything that has a uterus? Do you realise what danger we were in?! You were supposed to assume the appearance of my biological father, you cretin, not your own embelished human self! I was dying of fear that Jorgen would appear and end it all! Are you that much of an idiot?! Do you want to be taken away again? Don't you care for me? Don't you love me? Well, let's hear it!"

"Don't be ridiculous, _ahijado. _A uterus is not a necessary prerequisite for my amorous advances, by the way; don't be so narrow-minded, I taught you better than that. And, honestly, do you expect me to diminish my general sexiness by transforming myself into that plain man that is your _papacito_? "

"I beg your pardon?! Juandissimo, start being useful, or I am going to wish for you to lock yourself in a room full of lecherous old hags, and maybe then you will satisfy your compulsive drive for shallow romance! Listen to me, you nincompoop, do you realise what danger I'm in? And, for heaven's sake, give me that wretched mirror! There will be no more mirrors for you!"

The sound of shattered glass made Juandissimo gasp in terror.

"Broken mirror…"

"So? It's not like it is Friday the Thirteenth today."

"_Por Dios_, he never likes broken mirrors…Anti-Juan always hears them when I break them, _psicópata, él es un demonio!_"

"What are you talking about?"

"Remington. Don't. Break. Mirrors. _Mi chico, _hear me out. I may appear enamoured with my own reflection…no, wait, I actually am, but my point is that I have no intention of neglecting my duties to you. As a matter of fact, I was late for the meeting because I was settling your affairs at the bank. I opened a new account for you and stored enough money for your heart's desire. Feeling better now, _ahijado_?"

"No. I am as satisfied as an amphibian in the Sahara. And I am still mad at you for ruining the kitchen last night. Ye gods, you were supposed to make a sandwhich, how does that include the use of the stove? Pray tell, how is it possible that such a banal activity as that ends up with you turning my kitchen into an imitation of a ransacked tavern?"

"It shall remain a mystery, alas. But, at least I made myself an apron that has "sexy cook" spelled on it."

"Cute. On a side note, I have been thinking and I realised what I truly need."

"A family counsellor and a trip to Disneyland?"

"Very funny, no. I have to seek the services of the scholar of hearts, the master of sentiments, the philosopher of affection. If I want to make my life tolerable and normal in the next few decades, I have to ensure that my parents start acting according to my need for love, I want them to spend the necessary time with me, and since I cannot achieve that through the natural process, not to mention that Fairy magic is impotent when it comes to influencing feelings, I have to take drastic measures."

"If you're thinking of going to Cupido, my answer is "no". We are going to end up with ten arrows in our behinds if we appear in his villa after the last incident, and I am not talking about the harmless love arrows, I mean the sharp deadly real arrows he keeps for sadistic pleasure. The danger only increases if he ate caramel today...oh, _ahijado, _you have no idea what twisted evil awakens in him when he eats caramel and toffies, he goes completely _loco_. Last time that happened, he became such a sourpuss that he made the entire male population of a random town fall in love with a can of beer. I believe they slaughtered each other for it at some point. He can be as bad as Anti-Cupido."

"Anti-Cupid? How exactly is it possible for an "Anti-Cupid" to exist if Cupid himself is not a real Fairy?"

"Anti-Cupido is not a real Anti-Fairy, he too is a god. He is Zelos, the god of zeal and the son of Styx and Pallas, and his mother is quite powerful because once you swear an oath upon the name of Styx, you have to keep your word. "

"Charming little lesson, but I remain adamant in my decision. I demand you take me to Cupid."

"We have to make an appointment, you know."

"Excuse me?!"

A humorous scene followed, one in which Remy was holding the telephone and listening to the recorded effeminate voice of Cupid as it guided him through the array of numbers he had to press in order to gain access to the operating agent, ceaseless questions whether or not he would pay the tariff for making an interdimensional call and so forth. Remy was already on the edge of his nerves and Juandissimo was casually wiping the sweat on his forehead with a tissue. When he finally did get to an agent on the line, he was momentarily placed on hold and was forced to listen to the music that was placed to fill the silence. For some reason, Juandissimo was curious about the song and he made Remy turn on the speakerphone, and they recognized the lyrics of the "Miracle Worker":

"_There's nothing wrong with you that I can't fix, I come a runnin' with my little bag of tricks…"_

"Juandissimo, this goes beyond my limits of patience."

"Shhh, here comes my favourite part!"

"_Oooh, you're a miracle worker, oooh, you're a surgeon of love…"_

"Oh, ye gods! Pick up already!"

Eventually, a cherub placed them in Cupid's schedule and informed them that they could come immediately if the wished to, much to Remy's delight and to Juandissimo's horror. Frowning at the prospect of having to deal with the god that was also his secret flame, Juandissimo translocated them into Fairy World and in the courtyard of the sumptuous pink villa. Rose quartz and white marble tiles formed a path to the villa's veranda, the main entrance flanked by Ionic columns. A lovely maiden escorted them to the foyer, introducing herself as the goddess Hebe and nonchalantly making a joke about Cupid taking her role as "cupbearer" far too seriously when it came to her daily tasks.

Remy's eyes landed on the sentries that stood near the ornate staircase that led to the upper chambers and the grand office; he squinted to get a better look at the grey arrows they were armed with, recognising them as the legendary leaden arrows that were created to turn happy hearts into tenebrous wastelands. He deduced that Cupid had gotten quite paranoid when it came to upholding the security of his headquarters…still, cunning little Remy also noticed that the guards seemed rather drowsy, unhappy, they weren't even floating, but standing and leaning slightly on the wall. Remy made a sly smile and, just as Hebe was about to mount the stairs to announce the visitors to Cupid, he gently placed his hand on her arm and told her that he would like to have a glass of the famous divine nectar that was kept in the underground vaults of Cupid's mansion. She ruffled his hair and disappeared in golden smoke. Juandissimo raised an eyebrow at his godson.

"Why didn't you tell me you were thirsty?"

"Because I am not, I am just making a few adjustments. See the guards? I want them out of here. If what you say is true about us not being welcome here, then I don't want Hebe to announce us directly. Come closer, I'll tell you what to do."

Meanwhile, on the upper storey, the God of Love was living up to his reputation of a nervous wreck and an oppressive tyrant, his mood shifting capriciously from choleric to bored, his mind occasionally locking itself in his own reveries, lazy drawls mixing with ear-splitting roars and insults thrown in the direction of his subordinate cherubs that were timidly trying to meet his demands, trembling as Cupid kept on barking commands at those unfortunate enough to be in his vicinity. Portraits and tapestries hung from the walls, breathtaking murals depicted several millenia of the family history, ranging from the day when Chronos emasculated his father Uranus, the birth of Venus from the frothing sea caused by the droplets of Uranus's blood, all the way to the festivities of Cupid's marriage with Psyche, the images of poets reciting an epithalamium for their wedding night, the childhood of the joyous little Hedone.

A mug of scorching _café au lait_ was present on Cupid's desk, spreading the hypnotic scent throughout the office. Stacks of papers rose to the ceiling, their contents being mostly written appeals from unsatisfied couples and requests for an annulment of the effect of the Golden Arrow, catalogues lisitng Valentine's Day props, recipes for a tiramisu, elaborate studies of the aerodynamic shape of the "Thunderhearts" air crafts and tips for improving their quality, notes and notes, scribbles and doodles, crushed pieces of paper that contained the letter "J" surrounded by hearts, calculations of the monthly salary of the cherubs, Hebe's angry letters that kept on reminding Cupid that he should drink less coffee et cetera. Cupid was inspecting the new cloth he had received in order to determine whether the material was satisfactory for his tailor to make a new outfit. He crossed his arms over his chest in contempt as a little cherub floated next to him with the meal he had ordered. Simultaneously inspecting both the bowl and the material, Cupid lashed out his vitriol.

"Tacky, tacky, pure kitsch and cheap sparkles, ugh, you people are savages with no sense of colour coordination! Get me the imbecile that designed this, I'll make sure he gets a few stitches of his own. And you, you call this a fruit salad? Lo and behold, it's like the aftermath of a Jon Bon Jovi concert in this bowl, what have been doing to these oranges?! Oh, and look, this pineapple managed to live to tell the tale of your incompetence, it may wish to apply for the witness protection programme. Can someone please gather the necessary strength to hand me my damn cell phone, it's been ringing for an eternity! Doesn't the noise bother you people?!"

"It's your daughter, sir. She is threatening to blow up Manhattan if you don't let her go to her relative for a party this weekend."

"Is that so? She dares ask for that after what happened yesterday? Give me that phone, spare the rod, spoil the god, I always say. Hello? Hedone, Heddy-baby, you know Daddy loves you, but you're GROUNDED! No, no, no, I don't want to hear it! After that stunt you pulled last night, ye gods, the carpet is never going to recover! Your grandma cried her eyes out all over my new suit! What do you mean you want to go live with your mother?! Ah, no, don't play the "guilt" card with me, Psyche was the one that asked to divorce me, I wasn't cheating on your Mom! What? That incident during the Bacchanalia doesn't count! And for your information, it was not a goat, it was a damn heifer! Hello? Heddy? HEDONE, DON'T YOU DARE HANG UP ON ME!"

Just as Cupid uttered the last syllable, the door of his office was flinged open by Juandissimo's amethyst magical energy, and Remington entered, his bearing regal and a wicked smile gracing the little boy's mouth.

"Excuse me for interrupting your seizure, but I have something important to discuss with you. And yes, I do have an appointment, and no, those caffeine-infested bloodshot eyes won't frighten me out of the mansion, so feel free to blink from time to time. And before you press that cliché button under the desk to call for your security guards, know that they are already bribed and on their way to Fiji. They really work for a pittance, so it was quite easy to hand a few bags of cash and get the desired result."

Cupid's left eye twitched and he took a deep breath before a sickly sweet smile plastered itself on his face that was slowly getting distorted from his rage.

"Remington. Remy, honey, sweetie, my dearest darling, hehe…you're a dead man, you know that? I'll pick you a nice pink coffin, it will match the colour of your insides when I get my hands on you! How dare you set foot in here?! Who the hell do you think you are?!"

"I could ask you the same thing. Still crossed because we figured out that the parties for godchildren you used to host were in fact an elaborate scheme for us to shop for your groceries?"

"Babycakes, you don't want to mess with the big boys, trust me. You may end up getting a major bitchslap."

"Try me."

"I don't make empty threats, kiddo. I can make you spend the rest of your life as a dendrophile. No, even better, you'll end up in a happy marriage with a cactus. You can send me a postcard from the honeymoon in Rio and name your kids after me."

"What a coincidence! I was just about to discuss my dire family matters, and even if I had the pleasure of being tortured by your sick punishments, it wouldn't really make that much of a difference in my already horrible life. I want a potion, the most potent you have, one that incites filial affection and devotion. I'll pay whatever it takes. Rumour has it that you adore cash and Juandissimo just opened my very own bank account with a limitless access and no hindrance from my relatives."

"Ha, as if! Look around you, Remy, see these papers? Well, I got at least a thousand similar requests that have been made long before you came along and that are still pending and waiting to be evaluated and granted, and then there are imbeciles that no longer want what they got, and, see this, torn love letters, stained love letters, love letters with horrible grammar, they hired me to rewrite all of them, they want me to compose poems and songs for their loved ones because they are all too damn idiotic to court their lovers by themselves, and look at my e-mail inbox, yes, this. Do you see all of this?! How crammed it is?! Even my anti-spam system has an additional anti-spam system to deal with these! Ever since Pothos, Himeros and Anteros left the business to get a life and get married, I've been doing all of this by myself! I will never forgive my brother Anteros for leaving, he was the one that represented "love that is returned", I am only "love given". How can one have love given with no love returned?! I am forced to uphold everything alone. And sure, my sister Concordia, aka Corporate Connie, just had to emigrate to Pixie World and work for HP, leaving me to manage my paperwork and finances all by myself!"

"Did I request your life story or something? You only have to give one spell, it will take five seconds. I thought that spreading love was in your interest, by the way."

"Five seconds?! A proper spell and the proper potions need to be personalized if you want to create filial love. My arrows are created to spread love and are specifically designed for each living being, you cretin. Mother Venus, born from the sea foam and dubbed as Aphrodite in the olden times, was never as refined as I am, she did it all to cure her ever-present ennui, it was a mere boardgame to her. I brought Love to an art, a discipline, a science. We, the four Erotes, have laid the very foundations of this business…ahhhh, but all of it was my brainchild, mine, my own! I started this organisation! To directly influence that velvety streak of love, to make it quiver and rip as we wanted it, to tangle it into impossible knots, to watch the heart writhe and beat, beat, beat, listen to the rhythm, imagine its echo in the umbrae, do you hear it Remy, boy?! I live from that, I exist for that! But, hehe, a little teeny tiny thing went wrong, hehe, you see…whenever their hearts stopped radiating love...oh, but it was already too late when I noticed how it would affect me, far too late, far too late when I realised that I was addicted and so damn screwed, completely fucked up…I am dying, my boy, dying slowly but surely, dying and prolonging my existence with the supplies of love, hehe…love hurts, it damn kills, I literally have to work for a living...HEBE, I NEED MORE COFFEE, GET IN HERE!"

Remy flinched and summoned Juandissimo to his side.

"By Jove, he is mad! Cupid is genuinely insane!"

"I told you he probably ate caramel today."

"We have to think of a plan."

"No kidding. This was your idea, _ahijado, ahora nos enfrentamos a las consecuencias._"

"Not if I can help it. I am not leaving until I get what I want! I have nothing, Juandissimo! Absolutely nothing! Why should Turner get all the happiness?! I have nothing to lose, just watch me."

Remy turned from his godfather and approached Cupid's desk, slamming his palms on the free surface and gritting his teeth.

"You are going to help me, Cupid, whether you like it or not. You will do as I say."

"You want a war, Remy?"

Remington refused to avert his gaze from Cupid's blue eyes, resolute and firm as a mountain in his quest for a better life. However, he momentarily glanced at the cup that contained the hot beverage and he noticed how dangerously close to the edge it was, and that it could fall with a single stir of the desk. Insane pride took over Remy and, with a violent shove of the desk, he made the cup fall and spill its contents all over Cupid's lap. Needless to say that Cupid's scream caused all of the windows and other glass objects in the mansion to explode in smitherreens. Hebe made a mental note to herself that she would definitely not be cleaning the mess. Juandissimo's heart skipped a few beats. Remy, on the other hand, was triumphantly grinning, quite unphased by his atrocious act and even began to mock poor Cupid:

"Spilling coffee all over your Armani diaper, my not-so-dear Cupid? I feel sorry…for not having my camera to film it all. I am not leaving until I get what I want."

As Cupid began to seethe with fury, Juandissimo made a sad face and whispered:

"_Ay caramba_…"

* * *

><p>The utmost priority of every right-hand man was to cater to the interests of his master, primarily by meticulously fulfilling the given task and making himself reachable to the master's call at all times. Accordingly, our grim assassin had taken care to ensure that his communication devices would always be functioning perfectly, the batteries never getting empty, the signal spanning over several magical dimensions and covering the entire globe of the Earth. Indeed, Anti-Juandissimo's smartphone had been crafted to infallibly serve the purpose of being available whenever Anti-Cosmo would call; it had an elegant design, a broad LCD screen, a pair of tiny bat wings protruding on each side that acted as antennae that could detect foreign magical activity, programmes that could hack into any computer in the known Universe, decoding tools, et cetera. It also had a rich selection of colourful games. Chester knew this very well and he was currently on the tenth level of "Cranky Harpies".<p>

"Come on, come on, only three points left! Oh, yes, yes, thank the gods, I win! Hell yeah, I'm the boss, oh yeah!"

"Well, that was embarassing. Like, I've never even heard of that game before, and what is up with that phone having bat wings? It's not Halloween, you know."

"Well, thanks for pointing out the date, Trix, it's not like we haven't already heard it for the millionth time that your bithday is on the 7th of June. Can you shut up now?"

"Like, can you stop making those beeping sounds with that phone?"

"Can you just go and play on thin ice?"

"Um, no, guess why? It is, like, almost the 7th of June! Ha! There you have it, try pawning that."

"Oh, burn, like I care."

A change of plans had occurred during their little drive to class: Chester had wished for them to go off course and skip school for that day, mostly because his fragile nerves had been shattered by the very sound of Trixie's obnoxious talking, ceaseless chatting, criticising, babbling and questioning, rambling about her birthday party that would take place soon. She had kept on asking "Mr. Antonio" and "Mr. Zelos" to explain the mechanism of the car's engine, her enthusiasm growing each second. Anti-Juandissimo had been strictly against Chester's decision, and he had discreetly emphasised to his godson that Wanda would go bonkers if she found out about their detour, carefully making his sentences magically veiled so Trixie wouldn't hear that they were talking about magical beings. In fact, Anti-Juandissimo had been compelled to silently cast a spell that would make Trixie go temporarily deaf or distracted every time someone would mention Fairies or other themes that were forbidden to ordinary mortals. To sum up, Anti-Juandissimo had no choice but to grant the wish and ignore the bitter taste in his mouth as he did so.

During the commotion, nobody noticed that Timmy had fallen silent in the car, his elbow propped on the window and his gaze skipping from one passing tree to the other. For him, the past four months had only been marked with superficial happiness and convenient distractions from the disastrous ailment that had entered his inner sanctum. It had begun on the night when he was positive that he had been on his way to take out the trash, but somehow had been found lying unconscious on the lawn in front of his house. Wanda had almost had a heart attack. Timmy remembered Anti-Cupid's curious comment that he could no longer read Timmy's aura. Days and days had passed since that dreadful night, accumulating and turning into weeks, but time only aggravated Timmy's mood.

He had given Nega the task of walking down the dark tunnels of Timmy's mind and investigating the source of the issue, telling him to meticulously record all abnormal changes and interferences. It didn't take long before Timmy would regret the choice of sending Nega to solve the matter at hand. After each expedition, Nega would resurface, weak and his voice faint, in pain, whimpering and sobbing in Timmy's mind, rambling about a force that had coiled itself around the pillars in the lower quarters of Timmy's subconsciousness, a force that attempted to absorb Nega whenever he would approach it. And it was spreading, taking over and climbing upwards, slowly but surely, unwavering in its mission of taking over. Timmy had spent a myriad of hours comforting Nega, but to no avail; Nega had been dying, disappearing, fading, his deep voice had been reduced to a bare whisper. Timmy had demolished the entire living room on the fateful day in May when an indispensable part of him disappeared forever; to his horror, a repugnant substitute had slithered in and proclaimed itself as a new friend, a new voice to keep him amused.

However, a tiny speck of light shone in the overbearing darkness of Timmy's mind, almost as if a wayward firefly had taken pity and decided to come to Timmy's aid, a miniature bright purple flame that burned on the altar of the boy's being. The purple flame had an uncanny ability to banish the foreign force as soon as it would deign to approach the throne of Timmy's mind, serving as an eternal guardian and warden, an impregnable fortress and shield, releasing millions and millions of magenta butterflies to purge all areas that had been conquered and hindering the efforts of the dark force. Somehow, the sacred purple flame would always increase in power when Poof was in the immediate vicinity, intensifying and soaring in its warm power, speckling Timmy's soul with restful thoughts. Consequently, Timmy had strived to keep Poof as close as possible, often volunteering to carry him and feed him, sing lullabies for him, build castles from lego cubes for Poof's amusement. Timmy had wondered about the disappearance of the purple sparks that he had formerly been capable of conjuring, but he had dismissed it as a passing occurrence that had no importance. Conversations with Poof were his little chunk of heaven and safety.

Odd manifestations had begun on the day of Nega's death, changes surfacing in the physical realm, no longer confining themselves to the walls of his mind. Strange quirks became a new routine for Timmy, as he had found a sudden interest in the scent of bergamot, resulting in his constant wishes for having a cup of Earl Grey tea in the afternoons. He had discovered that a tinge of purple began to mar his pink shirts, changing colour ever so slowly, and eventually turning into dark violet, no matter how many times Timmy would wish for his clothes to turn back to their normal pink hue. Eventually, he had given up on trying to fight a losing battle. A slight obsession with numerology had creeped up and made him experiment with various number combinations, eyeing the registration numbers on cars, house numbers, bus numbers, somehow always adding them up until he would get a certain number that had caught his fancy. He had also gotten the odd urge to read Hobbes's_ Leviathan _and Shakespeare's _Macbeth_; after going through the latter, he had started to instinctively repeat to himself that "fair is foul and foul is fair", as if it were a morbid mantra.

Timmy jerked in his seat as the Voice suddenly returned to him, sounding quite jolly and in the mood for a long and excruciating mental conversation. Needless to say that Timmy despised the new voice, its nuance and vibrations so eerily familiar and sickening, but something would always impede Timmy from identifying it, from describing its accent, from recognizing it. But he knew that he knew the owner of the voice. Timmy began the inner argument and was quite persistent in the debate with the Voice, throwing every single insult in his vocabulary at it, much to the Voice's merriment.

"_Heed my advice, boy…it may be your only salvation. After all, am I not your common sense? Treasures lie within your mind, your imaginative ideas more precious than Venetian ducats, the fountains of your creativity containing the purest mineral water…"_

_"What sort of a disease are you?! Treasures?! Have you been sniffing glue or something? Everything is so blurred, other thoughts are erased, blocked, it's like a hurricane passed in my mind! And my alter-ego, my Nega-version, he's dead, he, I, we…what have you done to him? Bring him back, please give him back to me, he is an essential part of me, you despicable parasite, you killed a part of my soul, bastard…I hate you, whatever the hell you are!"_

_"Melodramatic, are we not? I did not murder your Nega-version, I have merely fused him with your general personality and he no longer exists as a separate entity, you will never hear his voice again, for he has returned to his roots, i.e. your core, just as he was before you yourself made the division and created him. You should be thanking me."_

_"Just wait till I get back in Poof's presence; I don't know how, but you disappear the very moment he comes to me, just like the coward you are, his light chases away your sick darkness. You don't stand a chance. "_

_"You can't hide from me forever. Poof may be affecting my influence, but that only occurs when he is in your proximity and he represents a temporary solution. However, when you and I are alone, my power grows, and nothing can diminish it, you can only postpone the inevitable. I am here for your own good. Did I not help you gather the courage to stand up to that school bully?Did I not help you make the proper decision to no longer tolerate injustice?"_

_ "No, you did not. I stopped myself at the last minute from listening to your poisonous words, you wanted me to wish for him to die and I refused. I am not your tool, not your puppet, go bother someone else! It is a well known fact that I am not that much of a saint, but I have a moral center and I can tell right from wrong. My battles were won through my own efforts, my own strength, my own heart and the hearts of my godparents. And I am going to find out what you are, just wait, my godparents will exorcise you."_

_"Why haven't they already? If I am not mistaken, you have subtly wished for Cosmo to fix whatever was wrong with your inner peace and he failed to expulse me; apparently, their magic cannot help."_

_"Is that why you destroyed my Nega-self? Because he was the only one that could keep you at bay from my conscious mind? I am not an idiot, you know, I heard the arguments he had with you, you were struggling for weeks just to get him out of the way, mutilating him bit by bit, crashing the walls he had built to protect my spirit. He may have been a nuisance, but I loved him, respected him and needed him."_

_"How touching…there is a tear lingering in the corner of your eye, you may want to wipe it before the others notice and get suspicious."_

_"Good! Let them get suspicious, that would be grand! I'll even ask Anti-Cupid to fix my mind, he'll destroy you with pleasure. I've seen what he is capable of, he told us all about the origin of his abilities. Most of the gods can be roughly classified as Empaths and Elementals, depending on their domain of functioning, and the Empaths have supreme understanding of the psyche of all living beings, they can heal, remove, manipulate and alter the emotions of others at will. He shouldn't be having any problems with getting rid of you. What are you laughing at?!"_

Timmy was brought back to reality when he felt Trixie give him a nudge in the ribs and gestured for him to listen to Anti-Cupid's narration of a horror story that included elements that were not suitable for minors, but it was interesting enough to occupy Trixie for a few minutes and stop her from going on everybody's nerves. However, Anti-Juandissimo decided to interject when the story became particularly dark.

"I will not tolerate such graphic details in front of the little ones."

"Hmpf, not enough to cover it, anyway. Me bowels are still recoverin' from the day Cheshire insisted on watching _Titanic_. Haven't had such a bleedin' stomach ache in the past three millenia."

"Never have I beheld a creature that equates rapid death with a lack of flavour."

"That's why I got you, love. There's never been a bloke whose contempt could push me off the bloomin' edge like you can."

"Pushed you in an iron maiden once and it failed to produce results."

"I thought it was foreplay."

"Lecherous fiend, is it really that difficult for you to remain serious for two full seconds?!"

"That's just your low blood sugar talkin', Grumpy Bear."

"If it weren't for the children in the back, I would now be crushing your trachea with my bare hands."

"Didn't know you were into erotic strangulation."

Thirty minutes of mindless driving later, Timmy made a proposition for Anti-Juandissimo to take the road that lead to the newly opened amusement park. He justified his idea by saying that it would be a perfect place for Trixie to choose her birthday present and that it would make her behaviour more tolerable afterwards. She smacked him on the head for daring to imply that she was annoying them, but the rest of the crew gladly embraced the notion of finally letting her vent elsewhere. As he drove to their destination, Anti-Juandissimo was thinking about the joys of the aspirine he would be taking as soon as he found the chance.

It was still quite early, approximately nine o'clock in the morning, and the amusement park was still quite silent and almost empty, but the rides and shops were operating normally, no matter the fact that most children were still at school. The managers were already preparing their business for the end of the school year and their spines were tingling at the very thought of having hundreds and hundred of new customers coming from to embrace their freedom after sitting in the classroom for months. Anti-Juandissimo found a nice spot to park his Doom Rover, and, before he could even kill the engine, Timmy, Trixie and Chester were already opening the vehicle doors and running in the general direction of the iridescent lights and goofy music. Anti-Juan sighed in his driver's seat and took off his sunglasses.

"I can finally soothe my headache."

"Do you want me to soothe you, love?"

"Leave me alone, Zelos; go and follow the children before they attract trouble. I have to call Wanda and give her a thorough explanation. Wait…Chester has my phone, oh, god damn it."

"Come on, I'll give you a short shoulder massage."

"You idiot, Chester has my phone, what do you think will happen if Anti-Cosmo calls and Chester answers?!"

"Cheshire's been playing with that phone for ages and he knows he isn't supposed to answer any calls, my reasonable lad knows how to use his crust, he isn't a toddler."

"Get out of the car, we have to take care of the children."

Unbeknownst to them, pretentious little Trixie had secretly taken the smartphone from Chester's pocket when they were still in the car, curious about the "Cranky Harpies" game and quite intrigued with the phone's appearance and beauty, her obsession with shiny expensive objects difficult to suppress. As the kids approached the first candy shop, Trixie made an excuse that she had to go and find a restroom, which gave her enough time to go and find a peaceful place where she could explore the prize she had taken. Unfortunately, the system did not react to her attempts at activating it, and she yelped as an electric shock overwhelmed her when she tried to use the buttons. Not only that, but the magical Anti-Fairy smartphone had cast its own protection spell and a blue light flashed. Trixie was confused at first, but then she let out a piercing scream as a swarm of wasps began to come out of the phone's screen.

"Oh, shit, oh, no, HELP! Timmy! Chester! Your phone needs a godamn exorcist!"

Several hundred meters away, Timmy glanced up from his popcorn.

"Was that Trixie screaming?"

"Yep, she stole my godfather's phone. I guess she activated the wasps."

"Wasps?! Are you nuts?! Come on, we have to do something!"

"They are a vivid illusion, Timmy. The phone knows that she is just a human and not a real threat, it just wants to scare her. She is going to be running in circles for a while, until she finally comes and gives me back the phone. Now you should see how it reacted when Anti-Binky came along once and tried to take it, oh, god, now that was downright deadly. It took him weeks to recover. It all depends on who takes it and what their intentions are, Anti-Juan takes these things into consideration when choosing appropriate punishments."

"You knew she took it?"

"Oh, god, Timmy, of course I knew, I am a future Anti-Fairy Warlock, remember? I can sense Anti-Fairy magic and Anti-Fairy technology, it is running through my veins. I still don't have any other cool powers, but I can move smaller things with my mind. See that bottle cork? I can make it levitate, but I am not ready to train with real telekinesis yet."

"But you will be, just think of all the awesome feats you'll be doing!"

Somewhere at the same time, Trixie realised that she had miraculously stayed alive and that there was no impending anaphylactic shock to worry about. The wasps began to float lazily around her, slowing down before finally disappearing. She gazed down at the phone and a pang of guilt began to torment her.

"Guess I shouldn't touch what isn't mine. But, whoa, what a radical security system. Mr. Antonio and Mr. Zelos are so cool, I wish my parents were like that, too. Eh, what can I say? Thou shalt not steal."

She took off her cap and allowed her voluminous hair to fall down her back, popped a few joints and, with a smug smile, took a good look at the partially empty amusement park.

"Freedom. For a day. That would be the best present ever."

Indeed it was. Reconciliation with Chester had a bitter effect on her ego, but it had to be done if she wished to have a good time with her fellow conspirators. A few formal apologies had soon turned into extravagant questions and fits of curiostiy, as she wished to know everything about the virtual games the phone contained; Chester showed her the instructions and let her do a few parties herself, seemingly impressed with her rapid progress and talent when it came to "boyish" activities. The trio continued their frolics in the numerous haunted houses, Daedalian passages, controrted mirrors that literally gave them a new perspective of themselves, changing the angles, multiplying shapes, showing off all the beauty of natural philosophy and being on par with magic itself. Rides and merry-go-rounds were indispensable in their timetable, along with archery competitions in which Timmy won a few plush unicorns for Trixie's birthday, earning himself a quick peck on the check as a sign of her happiness. All the while, the Antis were watching from afar and making sure nothing went wrong, but Anti-Cupid could not manage to convince Anti-Juan to stop pursuing the phone. Anti-Juan kept on listening intently with his preternatural ears for the familiar ringing sound of an incoming call. It should also be said that Anti-Cupid had chosen the Pixie Rap ringtone whenever Anti-Cosmo would call.

Knowing that it would be nigh impossible to get the phone back from his godchild, Anti-Juan conjured an ordinary phone and began to dial Wanda's number, bracing himself for her outburst of worry and shock. As he did so, he noticed a figure that crept on aorund the tents, far too stealthy to be human, far too ethereal. Anti-Juan's telepathic powers picked up the person's malicious intent, extreme evil, corruption and rotten soul. Anti-Cupid had gone after the little ones and he was already on the other side of the amusement park, nowhere near to assist. Anti-Juan hung up and used his inherent umbrakinetic abilities to dissolve into shadows, following the pulse and breathing of his target, tracking down the stranger, murderous intent already surfacing and revealing the callous ways he tried to hide from his dear Chester. Anti-Juan's shadow form condensed into an onyx sword and it violently pierced through the shoulder blades of the mystery intruder, twisting and turning, a spell already cast to muffle the man's screams. Retreating from the bleeding flesh, the sword had once again tranformed itself into Anti-Juan, and he pulled the man by the hair to get a look at his face, mild surprise gracing his features as he recognized who the person was. Anti-Juan snorted and released the man's dark hair, not even remotely disturbed that he had just stabbed his own boss. A pair of glowing green eyes mocked Anti-Juan, the shaggy midnight blue hair and unnatural pallor confirming that it was the human appearance of Anti-Cosmo. He was wearing a black pinstriped suit, an indigo tie made in a perfect Windsor knot around his neck, an ebony cane in his right hand. His trademark monocle and bowler hat had been missing from the arrangement.

"Do I look like a pin cushion to you? There is gore all over my garments, oh, how uncomely. Have you no manners, Anti-Juandissimo?"

"I am waiting for an explanation. You are breaking your promise regarding my godson, you are not supposed to be anywhere near him."

"I am only flexing it and remaining within the given boundaries."

"Liar."

"Yes, I do that from time to time. It's almost like I'm evil. Are you in the mood for a little show, my old friend? "

Anti-Juandissimo's eyes widened.

"Anti-Cosmo, what did you do?"

"Nothing much. Enough to annoy Timothy."

"What did you do?!"

"It will be fun, sit down, have some delicious popcorn, it is fresh and buttered. I may or may not have summoned a guest to entertain our little heroes. I believe Timothy is well equipped to deal with Dark Laser."

"Excuse me?!"

Anti-Juandissimo sent a blast from his wand in Anti-Cosmo's direction, effectively charring the flesh on his midriff and melting his inner organs. Anti-Cosmo merely laughed as he healed himself instantly, preparing his own arcane spells to retaliate, shooting sharp glass from his wand and adding random flames, amused with the fact that Anti-Juandissimo managed to skillfully parry each of them. Anti-Juan kept on murmurring spells and enchantments that made open sores appear on Anti-Cosmo's skin, and the green-eyed Anti-Fairy returned the favour by conjuring an extremely powerful surge of energy to slam Anti-Juan in the nearest wall, enjoying the sound of crunching bones.

"Just like in the good old times in the playground, eh? Remember how you made me half blind, my poor Anti-Juandissimo? My right eye will never recover. Care to share the counter-spell?"

"You mutilated my neck and torso when we were children, you bastard. How about you give the counter-spell first?"

"_Quid pro quo. _You first."

"No. Call off the attack, immediately. Send Dark Laser back from whence he came!"

"Too late, he is almost here. It will be magnificent, imagine how important this will be in showing the true potential of our children. I have noticed Chester's strength as well, he will be a powerful warlock one day. Especially after he gets the First Gift from his patron god, Zelos. Don't you see, Anti-Juandissimo? I am doing this for their own sake, as an exercise of their wit and skill. I want Timothy's talents to shine like brilliants in the afternoon sunlight."

As Anti-Cosmo spoke, Anti-Juan voicelessly cast a spell and a stream of liquid fire surrounded his opponent and closed in on him, shrinking and shrinking, closing in on him and crushing his form. Tenebrous tendrils escaped from the prison and regained shape, a dozen clones of Anti-Cosmo attacking Anti-Juandissimo simultaneously, cutting and slicing him, telekinetically making his wrists and ankles break, making a few open fractures. Anti-Juan's dire condition notwithstanding, his right hand managed to regenerate quickly enough to punch several clones in the face and break their jaws. Still, they all managed to hold and pin Anti-Juandissimo on the ground, securing his limbs in a firm grip. In a swift motion, the original Anti-Cosmo moved Anti-Juan's hair from the back of his neck and he inserted a syringe at the base of his skull, injecting a potent serum that would throw him in a short-term coma, making it possible for Anti-Cosmo to have free reign and eliminate the prospect of being disturbed in his plans.

"I won't hurt them, my friend. Take a deserved rest, you will feel better when you wake up."

The enchantment that had kept the clones extant dissipated and only one Anti-Cosmo remained, standing victoriously next to Anti-Juandissimo's unconscious form. The Leader of the Anti-Fairies stretched his arms in contentment and he produced his black-rimmed monocle from his left pocket, placing it over his right eye.

"Now, Timothy, let's play and see how you do. My expectations are high and my patience is low…"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>**I am terribly sorry for taking so long to update, but my exams and university duties have been holding me hostage and there was no proper time to fully concentrate on the story. I am sending my love to all the readers and I hope the story is amusing them. Reviews are welcome and they also make Anti-Cosmo happy :D. The title of the fourth chapter shall be "Thesis".**


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